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UPLAND 
GAME 


and  others 


AMERICAN  SPORTSMAN'S  LIBRARY 

Edited  by  Caspar  Whitney 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


THE  AMERICAN    SPORTSMAN^   LIBRARY 

EDITED  BY 
CASPAR    WHITNEY 


UPLAND   GAME   BIRDS 


«'   , 


-~- 


UPLAND  GAME  BIRDS 


BY 
EDWYN    SANDYS 

AND 

T.    S.   VAN    DYKE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  L.  A.  FUERTES,  A.  B.  FROST 
J.    O.  NUGENT,  AND   C.  L.  BULL 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1904 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  May,  1902.     Reprinted 
October,  1904. 


NorbJooU 

J.  S.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

UPLAND    GAME 

BY  EDWYN  SANDYS 
THE   PARTRIDGE  FAMILY 

PAGB 

THE  QUAIL l 

The  Shooting  of  the  Quail 3° 

Near  the  End  of  the  Season     .        .        .        .        *         .  64 

The  Enemies  of  the  Quail 69 

A  Day  over  Dogs 73 

The  Florida  Bob-white 85 

The  Texan  Bob-white 87 

The  Masked  Bob-white 89 

THE  PARTRIDGES 91 

The  Mountain  Partridge 91 

The  Plumed  Partridge 93 

The  San  Pedro  Partridge 94 

The  Scaled  Partridge       .                 94 

The  Chestnut-bellied  Scaled  Partridge     ....  96 

The  California  Partridge <& 

The  Valley  Partridge 100 

Gambel's  Partridge 101 

The  Massena  Partridge IO4 

THE  GROUSE   FAMILY 

The  Ruffed  Grouse                          Io8 

Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing *32 

v 


236464 


vi  Contents 

PAGE 

Sabine's  Grouse      .........  143 

The  Canadian  Ruffed  Grouse 144 

The  Gray  Ruffed  Grouse         .         .         .         .         .         .         .146 

The  Dusky  Grouse 147 

The  Sooty  Grouse 152 

Richardson's  Grouse 153 

The  Canada  Grouse 153 

Franklin's  Grouse 156 

The  Prairie-Hen 156 

A  Match  at  Chickens 177 

The  Heath-Hen 192 

The  Lesser  Prairie-Hen 193 

Attwater's  Prairie-Hen 193 

The  Sharp-tailed  Grouse 193 

The  Columbian  Sharp-tailed  Grouse 194 

The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse 195 

The  Sage-Grouse 210 

THE  PTARMIGAN   FAMILY 

The  Willow  Ptarmigan 221 

A  Try  for  Ptarmigan 229 

Allen's  Ptarmigan  .........  240 

The  Rock  Ptarmigan 241 

Reinhardt's  Ptarmigan 241 

Welch's  Ptarmigan 242 

The  White-tailed  Ptarmigan 242 

Other  Ptarmigan 247 

THE   TURKEY  FAMILY 

The  Wild  Turkey 248 

The  Florida  Wild  Turkey 298 


Contents  vii 

PAGE 

Elliot's  Rio  Grande  Turkey 299 

The  Mexican  Turkey 299 

THE  WOODCOCK 

The  American  Woodcock 303 

PLOVER 

Bartram's  Sandpiper  —  Upland  Plover 322 

The  Golden  Plover 330 

A  Golden  Opportunity 332 

FOREIGN   GAME 

Foreign  Game 345 

THE  CRANES 

The  Whooping  Crane 353 

The  Sand-hill  Crane 359 

THE   MOURNING   DOVE 

The  Mourning  Dove 367 

THE  QUAIL  AND   THE  GROUSE  OF  THE 
PACIFIC  COAST 

BY  T.  S.  VAN  DYKE 

The  Valley-Quail  of  California 377 

The  Mountain-Quail 386 

Gambel' s  Partridge.     The  Quail  of  the  Desert        .        .         -394 

The  Ruffed  Grouse 403 

The  Dusky  Grouse 4*0 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  SUPREME  MOMENT Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

THE  NATIONAL  GAME-BIRD  (Bob-white)     ....  68 

A  DESERT  RUNNER  (GambePs  Partridge)     ....  100 

THE  RUFFED  GROUSE  STRUTTING 134 

THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN  (Pinnated  Grouse)   ....  174 

THE  KING  OF  WILD  BIRDS 252 

A  WOODLAND  HERMIT  (The  Woodcock)     .        .        .        .303 

THE  GAME-BIRD  OF  THE  UNIVERSE  (The  Plover)       .        .  328 

CALIFORNIA  MOUNTAIN-QUAIL 386 


UPLAND    GAME 

BY  EDWYN  SANDYS 


UPLAND  GAME 


THE   PARTRIDGE   FAMILY 

CLASS  AVES  —  Order  Gallinae  (gallinaceous  birds  —  scratching  on 
the  ground  like  domestic  fowl  —  also  called  Rasores,  from  the 
Latin  "  rasor,"  a  scraper)  :  having  fowl-like  feet. 

Family  Tetraonidce  —  Grouse,  partridges,  quails,  etc.  Sub-families 
—  Odontophorince  (American  partridges)  and  Tetraonince  (grouse 
and  ptarmigan). 

Genus  Colince,  which  includes  (i)  the  Bob  White,  C.  mrginianus ; 
(2)  Texas  Bob  White,  C.  V.  texanus;  (3)  Florida  Bob  White, 
C.  v.  floridanus ;  (4)  Masked  Bob  White,  C.  ridgwayi. 

Family  Type  —  Body  short,  rounded,  giving  a  plump  appearance; 
feathers  of  crown  slightly  rounded  and  erectile,  but  not  forming 
a  true  crest.  Tail  about  three-fifths  length  of  wing.  Flight 
vigorous,  whirring.  Numbers  i,  2,  and  3  much  alike,  sexes  also 
showing  close  resemblance,  except  in  color  of  throats  and  super- 
ciliary stripes.  In  color  C.  ridgwayi  differs  broadly  from  others. 
C.  virginianus — total  length,  about  9^  inches  ;  wing,  4* ;  tail,  2f ; 
tarsus,  i£;  bill,  f.  C.  v.  floridanus — total  length,  about  7f 
inches;  wing,  4f;  tail,  2|;  tarsus,  ij;  bill,  \.  C.  if. texanus  — 
total  length,  about  9  inches ;  wing,  4^ ;  tail,  2£ ;  tarsus,  i£ ; 
bill,  \.  C.  ridgwayi — total  length,  about  8£  inches;  wing,  4^; 
tail,  2|;  tarsus,  i£;  bill,  \. 

THE  QUAIL 

Despite  the  leagues  of  virgin  paper  and  gallons 
of  ink  which  have  been  wedded  to  produce  the 
story  and  the  glory  of  the  shooting  of  the  Ameri- 


\£:\] £«*•': :   \ /Fbg  Partridge  Family 

can  "quail,"  the  interesting  fact  remains — there's 
no  such  bird. 

If  at  the  time  of  this  writing  there  be  true  quail 
alive  and  free  in  the  United  States  of  America, 
either  the  birds  or  their  immediate  ancestors  have 
been  imported.  The  quail  of  the  Bible  story,  the 
heaven-sent  meat  to  the  famished,  was  a  true 
quail,  but  the  bird  is  not  a  native  of  this  country. 
And,  in  passing,  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to 
remark  that  latter-day  scientific  knowledge  only 
sustains,  as  it  does  in  so  many  other  instances, 
the  absolute  truth  of  the  ancient  record.  Under 
conditions  likely  to  prevail  at  a  certain  season  of 
any  year,  great  flocks  of  migrating. quail  not  only 
might,  but  probably  would,  act  as  did  their  ances- 
tors in  days  of  old. 

Nor  is  such  a  reference  out  of  place  in  a  sports- 
man's book.  A  true  sportsman  must  be  a  true 
gentleman,  and  a  true  gentleman  surely  will  not 
forget  his  Host  while  enjoying  to  the  full  the 
feast  of  good  things  and  the  glorious  beauty  of 
the  place  of  entertainment  provided  for  him.  We 
of  the  generous  craft,  whose  very  name  binds  us 
to  honorable  deed  and  fair  speech,  —  we  who  by 
virtue  of  that  craft  get  so  near  to  what  is  fairest 
and  cleanest  of  earth,  —  shall  we  forget  ? 

Some  years  ago  an  earnest  but  misguided  at- 
tempt was  made  to  introduce  a  true  quail  —  the 
migratory  variety.  Sportsmen  of  different  parts 


Tbe  Quail  3 

of  the  country  heard  of  the  possibility  of  adding 
to  our  list  of  upland  game,  and  money  for  the 
purpose  was  speedily  forthcoming.  It  was  the 
idea  that  the  migratory  quail  could  be  brought 
here  in  sufficient  numbers  to  establish  the  species. 
The  original  importations  were  released  at  vari- 
ous points  in  the  Northern  states  and  Canada 
early  in  spring,  the  promoters  of  the  venture 
believing  the  birds  would  breed  in  the  strange 
covers,  and  that  their  produce,  at  least,  would 
establish  their  hereditary  instinct  by  moving 
southward  at  the  approach  of  cold  weather  and 
returning  to  their  birthplaces  the  spring  following. 

Theoretically,  this  to  the  average  sportsman 
appeared  a  simple  proposition,  but  the  more  sci- 
entific minority  were,  to  say  the  least,  sceptical. 
All,  however,  were  more  or  less  interested  and 
curious  concerning  the  expected  northern  migra- 
tion the  following  spring.  When  the  season  had 
swung  round,  tidings  of  the  new  game  were 
eagerly  awaited.  The  waiting  proved  a  trifle 
over-long ;  indeed,  it  is  extremely  likely  that  the 
long-looked-for  migrants,  if  ever  they  took  to 
flight,  forgot  to  turn  about. 

The  fate  of  these  birds  is  problematical. 
Turned  loose  at  random  as  too  many  of  them 
were,  amid  strange  cover,  food,  and  surroundings, 
and  exposed  to  attack  by  various  unfamiliar  foes, 
perhaps  the  majority  of  them  perished  not  far 


4  The  Partridge  Family 

from  where  they  were  released.  The  first  severe 
weather  may  have  destroyed  the  remainder ;  but  if 
a  few  drifted  southward  in  an  attempt  to  reach 
their  native  land,  the  final  long  flight  over  sea  was 
assuredly  a  feat  far  beyond  their  limited  powers. 
The  loss  of  these  birds  was  no  serious  matter. 
Small,  fast-running,  lacking  all  the  better  quali- 
ties of  their  American  namesakes,  the  migratory 
quail  would  at  the  best  have  been  a  very  question- 
able addition  to  our  list  of  game  birds.  Those 
who  tried  good  dogs  on  them  while  the  opportu- 
nity lasted,  appeared  to  think  that  the  famished 
Israelite  of  old  did  not  eat  quite  enough. 

Of  the  birds  popularly  known  as  "quail "  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  this  country,  scientists  have  recog- 
nized no  less  than  thirteen  varieties,  some  of 
which  they  have  agreed  to  term  "  Bob  Whites," 
while  the  others  are  "  partridges."  With  the  name 
Bob  White,  which  was  suggested  by  the  well- 
known  and  musical  call  of  the  male  bird,  sports- 
men need  not  quarrel  —  "A  rose  by  any  other 
name  —  "  etc.  The  birds  classified  as  Bob  Whites 
include  Colinus  virginianus,  the  quail  of  sport- 
ing lore ;  Colinus  virginianus  floridanus,  the 
Florida  variety ;  C.  v.  texanus,  of  Texas  and 
Mexico ;  and  C.  ridgwayi,  the  masked  Bob  White 
of  southern  Arizona  and  Mexico. 

The  partridges  comprise  a  group  in  which  are 
Oreortyx  pictus,  the  mountain  partridge  of  Cali- 


The  Quail  5 

fornia,  Oregon,  and  Washington,  which  has  been 
introduced  into  Vancouver  Island ;  O.  p.  plumi- 
ferus,  of  California,  Oregon,  and  Nevada;  O.p. 
confinis,  the  San  Pedro  partridge  of  Lower  Cali- 
fornia ;  Callipepla  squamata,  the  scaled  partridge 
of  western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  southern  Ari- 
zona, and  valley  of  Mexico ;  C.  s.  castaneigastra, 
the  chestnut-bellied  scaled  partridge  of  the  lower 
Rio  Grande  valley,  Texas,  and  northeastern 
Mexico ;  Lophortyx  calif ornicus,  of  the  Califor- 
nia coast,  and  introduced  into  Oregon,  Washing- 
ton, and  British  Columbia ;  L.  c.  vallicola,  of 
California,  Oregon,  and  Nevada ;  L.  gambeli,  of 
southern  Utah,  Nevada,  northwestern  Mexico, 
western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  Arizona,  and  Cali- 
fornia ;  and  Crytonyx  montezuma,  the  Massena 
partridge  of  western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  Ari- 
zona, and  the  table-lands  of  Mexico. 

All  of  these  are  beautiful,  the  oddest  appearing 
being  the  curiously  marked  Massena  partridge, 
with  the  plumage  of  which  Nature  appears  to 
have  worked  when  in  a  playful  mood,  so  strangely 
are  the  almost  startling  markings  arranged. 

The  Bob  White  has  been  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  list  for  reasons  good.  Not  one  of  his  crested 
or  more  gayly  marked  relatives,  near  or  remote, 
can  approach  him  in  sporting  qualifications.  He 
truly  is  the  king  of  his  race,  and  not  alone  that, 
for  in  the  opinion  of  hosts  of  enthusiastic  sports- 


6  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

men  he  is  the  best  bird  that  flies.  Judged  from 
the  sportsman's  point  of  view,  no  other  bird  ap- 
pears to  so  exactly  meet  all  requirements.  Swift 
and  small,  he  offers  a  sufficiently  difficult  mark  to 
thoroughly  test  one's  skill;  prolific  to  an  aston- 
ishing degree,  he  may  be  depended  upon  to  hold 
his  own  under  any  reasonable  conditions;  a 
haunter  of  all  sorts  of  ground,  his  pursuit  ever 
presents  the  wearing  charm  of  infinite  variety; 
hardy  and  strong,  he  thrives  under  climatic  con- 
ditions which  few  other  game  birds  can  endure ; 
his  limited  wanderings  seldom  take  him  far  from 
his  native  farm;  he  is  there  when  wanted,  and 
when  secured  his  small,  plump  body  is  worthy  a 
chef's  supreme  effort  and  a  gourmand's  unstinted 
praise.  Add  to  all  this  his  habit  of  lying  well 
before  dogs,  and  what  more  could  sportsman 
true  desire  —  especially  when  it  is  remembered 
that  this  prize  package  of  golden  qualities 
comes  to  us  in  a. beautiful  cover  —  for  the  plu- 
mage is  what  may  be  termed  both  pleasing  and 
appropriate. 

The  Bob  White  is  a  widely  distributed  species, 
being  found  more  or  less  abundant  throughout 
the  eastern  United  States  from  Maine  to  Florida. 
In  the  western  portion  of  the  province  of  On- 
tario it  is  plentiful,  while  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi its  range  extends  to  South  Dakota,  Missouri, 
and  eastern  Texas.  It  has  also  been  introduced 


Tbe  Quail  7 

into  New  Mexico,  Colorado,  Utah,  Idaho,  Cali- 
fornia, Oregon,  Washington,  and  British  Colum- 
bia. Throughout  all  this  vast  expanse  of  country 
it  thrives  and  fulfils  its  fourfold  mission,  as 
martyr  to  the  sporting  spirit,  food  to  the  epi- 
cure and  the  ailing,  a  joy  to  the  lover  of  nature, 
and  as  an  extremely  valuable  assistant  to  the 
agriculturist.  The  quail  truly  is  a  bird  of  the 
farm,  the  camp-follower  of  the  strong  army  of 
agriculture  which  is  so  steadily  conquering  the 
wild  acres  of  the  West.  As  the  grain  belt 
broadens,  so  does  the  range  of  Bob  White 
extend.  Himself  no  ploughman,  yet  he  conscien- 
tiously follows  the  plough.  He  is  the  gleaner, 
who  never  reaps,  who  guards  the  growing  crops, 
who  glories  over  a  bounteous  yield,  yet  is 
content  to  watch  and  wait  for  those  lost  grains 
which  fall  to  him  by  right.  Shrewd  foe  to  the 
foes  of  the  farm,  he  hunts  amid  the  crowding 
stems  for  skulking  insect  peril ;  and  what  he  and 
his  swarming  tribe  fail  to  detect,  can  work  but 
small  harm.  His  food  consists  of  "  mast,"  i.e. 
small  acorns,  beechnuts ;  grain  of  various  kinds, 
notably  buckwheat,  corn,  and  wheat,  millet,  and  a 
variety  of  small  seeds,  some  of  these  being  of  the 
most  troublesome  weeds.  These,  of  course,  are 
the  autumn  and  winter  foods;  at  other  seasons 
the  diet  is  chiefly  insectivorous,  including  ants  and 
their  larvae,  potato  beetles,  chinch  bugs,  cotton 


8  The  Partridge  Family 

worms,  grasshoppers,  crickets,  the  cutworm  moth, 
and  probably  a  few  others  which  the  farmer  is 
glad  to  dispense  with.  In  the  destruction  of 
these  the  quail  performs  a  service  the  value  of 
which,  while  it  cannot  be  determined,  unques- 
tionably is  great.  Apropos  of  this  point:  lest 
some  of  the  well-meaning  but  frequently  mis- 
guided bird  lovers  should  arise  in  their  zealous 
misunderstanding  of  actual  conditions  and  ex- 
claim, "  Then,  if  quail  do  this,  they  should  not 
be  shot ! "  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the 
entire  protection  of  the  quail  would  not  mean  a 
speedy  increase  of  useful  workers  and  a  corre- 
sponding decrease  of  insect  pests.  The  fact  is, 
that  quail  will  not  stand  overcrowding.  If  they 
did,  it  would  be  a  simple  matter  to  closely  pre- 
serve a  few  thousand  acres  until  the  tract  became 
literally  alive  with  the  birds.  Experience  has 
taught  that  a  certain  number  of  acres  will  carry 
only  a  certain  number  of  quail.  During  the  mat- 
ing season,  the  males,  like  all  gallinaceous  birds, 
are  extremely  pugnacious,  and  the  mated  male 
will  tolerate  no  possible  near-by  rival.  Hence,  too 
many  birds  would  surely  mean  trouble,  war,  and 
confusion,  and  a  consequent  interruption  of  most 
important  business.  It  is  quite  possible,  too, 
that  overcrowding  would,  as  it  does  in  the  case  of 
closely  preserved  grouse,  cause  disease.1  In  any 

1  England  is  suffering  this  season  (1901)  a  considerable  loss  of  its 
birds  from  this  very  cause.  — EDITOR. 


The  Qiiail  9 

event  the  quail  appear  to  settle  the  matter  in  a 
satisfactory  way  by  scattering  over  the  country, 
so  that  each  brood  may  enjoy  a  range  of  its  own. 
The  love-making  of  the  quail  is  carried  on  with 
a  dash  and  spirit  worthy  of  so  gamey  a  bird. 
Every  resident  of  a  quail  country  knows  and 
loves  the  clear,  sweet,  often  defiant  whistle  of 
"  Bob  White  —  Bob-bob  —  White !  "  which,  in  the 
Northeast,  during  May,  is  flung  from  fence  to 
stump,  to  and  fro  across  sun-kissed  open  and 
flowered  mead.  Amid  the  perfumed  breath  of 
new-waked  blooms  and  tender  growing  things ; 
when  the  soft  air  is  a-tremble  with  glad  bird 
voices,  which  plead  for  love  from  swaying  frond, 
sweet  upper  air,  and  bosky  dell,  then  brave, 
brown  Bob  feels  the  witchery  of  the  season  and 
boldly  enters  Love's  fateful  lists.  It  is  a  merry  tour- 
ney, for  small  knights  are  bold,  and  fair  maids  some- 
what coy.  Suitors  are  many,  sometimes  too  many, 
and  the  prizes  must  be  fairly  won.  At  first  Bob 
is  more  of  the  sighing  lover,  —  the  minstrel  'neath 
his  lady's  bower,  —  and  he  contents  himself  with 
sending  random  love-notes  by  the  mischievous 
breeze.  From  across  his  favorite  field  comes  an 
echo  of  his  ringing  call  —  the  voice  of  some  ambi- 
tious rival !  At  once  he  is  all  attention.  Does  he 
hear  aright?  Can  it  be  that  insignificant  little 
bird  with  which  he  shared  quarters  under  the 
snow-laden  brush-heap  through  half  of  the  win- 


io  The  Partridge  Family 

ter  just  past  ?  He  will  see  to  it,  and  at  once ! 
«  Bob  —  White !  Bob-bob  —  White  —  Bob  —  Whi- 
ite ! !  "  Each  cry  is  louder  and  sharper  than 
its  predecessor,  the  last  "  Whi-ite  "  being  shaken 
with  anger.  And  ever,  like  an  echo,  comes  the 
reply,  for  the  rival  is  as  audacious  and  passionate 
as  our  doughty  hero,  and  quite  as  ready  to  break 
a  lance  when  bright  eyes  are  willing  to  behold 
brave  deeds.  From  the  long-distance  hurling  of 
defiances  the  dispute  gradually  progresses  to  a 
tempestuous  interchange  of  musical  incivilities 
at  short  range.  The  pygmy  warriors  are  comi- 
cally in  earnest.  Each  puffs  himself  up  and 
struts  about  as  though  fairly  bursting  with  rage, 
and  there  is  much  raising  of  crests,  cocking  of 
heads,  and  short  racings  this  way  and  that.  One 
runs  to  the  top  of  an  old  ant-hill,  and  from  this 
coign  of  vantage  fairly  shouts  his  desire  for  deadly 
combat ;  the  other  springs  upon  a  fallen  log  and 
makes  the  air  ring  with  requests  for  gore.  Fi- 
nally, they  both  reach  an  open  space  and  catch 
sight  of  each  other.  Then  there  is  a  funny  little 
fight,  but  a  furious  one  while  it  lasts.  They  fight 
after  the  manner  of  small  game  chickens,  but  the 
action  is  much  faster,  and  there  is  considerable 
savage  biting  and  tenacious  hanging-on  by  the 
short,  strong  bills.  Feathers  are  pulled  and 
broken,  heads  are  pecked  until  a  trace  of  blood 
appears,  there  is  much  cuffing  by  whirring  wings 


The  Quail  n 

and  striking  by  small  feet,  until  one  yields  and 
slips  away  discomfited. 

To  the  victor  belongl  the  spoils ;  and  while  the 
panting  hero  is  endeavoring  to  shout  his  triumph, 
forth  from  her  secret  hiding-place  demurely  steps 
the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  the  woman  in  the 
case,  the  trim,  brown-throated  hen.  In  all  prob- 
ability she  has  not  cared  a  continental  about 
either  warrior.  As  the  racing  men  put  it,  her 
business  is  to  "  pick  a  winner,"  and  in  so  doing 
she  merely  plays  her  part  in  Nature's  wonderful 
plan  according  to  which  the  fittest  survive  for  the 
perpetuation  of  the  race.  Some  very  pretty  love- 
making  follows,  for  my  lady  holds  herself  not  too 
cheaply.  Sir  Knight,  though  fresh  from  victory 
bravely  won,  must  still  strut  and  coax  and  plead 
—  nay!  perchance  fight  it  all  over  again  with 
some  new  rival  before  she  will  bestow  the  favor 
he  craves.  At  last  she  yields,  and  to  her  credit 
be  it  said  that  once  mated,  she  is  a  model  wife. 
It  is  questionable  if  her  lord  is  equally  irreproach- 
able. Among  well-informed  sportsmen  there  is  a 
belief,  to  which  the  writer  inclines,  that  the  quail 
is,  at  least  to  a  certain  extent,  polygamous.  It  is 
no  uncommon  thing  to  find  nests  containing 
thirty  or  more  eggs,  which  must  have  been  depos- 
ited by  more  than  one  hen.  The  fact  of  these 
eggs  hatching  proves  a  mated  hen,  and  not  an 
unmated  wanderer  laying  as  domestic  fowl  do, 


12  The  Partridge  Family 

while  the  pugnacity  of  the  cock  forbids  the  theory 
of  two  pairs  entering  upon  a  joint  housekeeping. 
It  is  therefore  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  in 
some  instances,  at  least,  a  single  cock  mates  with 
two  hens.  Presumably,  the  young  from  such  a 
nest  would  be  cared  for  by  the  two  hens.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  the  writer  has  often  flushed  broods  of 
thirty-odd  half-grown  young  which  were  accom- 
panied by  three  mature  birds,  one  cock  and  two 
hens,  while  other  broods,  almost  if  not  quite  as 
strong,  would  be  with  one  cock  and  hen.  Some 
of  the  confusion  regarding  this  point  has  no  doubt 
been  caused  by  the  fact  of  the  hen  frequently 
hatching  two  broods  in  a  single  season.  In  such 
cases  the  first  brood  is  carefully  cared  for  by  the 
male,  while  his  mate  is  brooding  the  second  lot  of 
eggs.  When  these  are  hatched  the  two  broods 
unite,  which  accounts  for  the  unusually  large 
young  bevies  frequently  described  by  sportsmen. 
The  man  who  only  studies  the  quail  along  the 
rib  of  a  breech-loader  knows  the  bird  merely  dur- 
ing the  shooting  season.  To  him  a  big  bevy  is 
a  big  bevy  and  nothing  more,  and  he  doesn't 
bother  himself  over  the  fact  that  some  of  his  birds 
are  a  bit  smaller  and  less  developed  than  others. 
Slight  differences  which  to  a  trained  observer  at 
once  betray  the  two  broods,  are  lost  to  the  man 
who  shoots  for  love  of  killing,  and  whose  sole 
desire  is  for  birds  big  enough  to  show  his 


The  Quail  13 

friends  and  plentiful  enough  to  keep  his  gun 
barrels  hot. 

The  nest  of  the  quail  is  built  upon  the  ground, 
and  usually  it  is  well  concealed.  Favorite  sites 
for  it  include  the  long  growth  about  a  fence  or 
bush,  an  angle  in  the  roots  of  an  old  stump  or  a 
thick  tuft  in  a  pasture.  It  may  be  under  a  log 
or  the  edge  of  a  dry  ditch,  in  the  orchard  or  the 
hay-field,  or  even  in  some  snug  corner  about  a 
barn  or  outbuilding;  wherever  it  be,  its  discov- 
ery is  apt  to  be  accidental.  If  in  a  hay-field,  it 
may  be  arched  over  with  interwoven  grasses  and 
have  an  entrance  at  one  side.  Occasionally  this 
entrance  is  concealed  by  a  short,  roughly  con- 
structed, tunnel-like  approach. 

The  nest  is  a  puzzle  in  its  way.  At  first  glance 
one  sees  a  startling  array  of  snow-white,  highly 
polished  eggs,  rather  larger  than  the  size  of  the 
bird  would  lead  one  to  expect,  and  shaped  like  so 
many  small  peg-tops.  The  treasure  house  may 
have  been  located  after  a  long  search,  but  when 
found,  you  wonder  how  you  failed  to  at  once 
detect  it.  Then  you  marvel  at  the  arrangement 
of  the  eggs,  which  are  invariably  closely  packed, 
with  the  pointed  ends  downward.  If  you  were 
foolish  enough  to  take  them  out,  the  odds  would 
be  ten  to  one  against  your  being  able  to  put  them 
back  again,  yet  the  wise  little  hen  did  it  without 
hands  or  your  boasted  knowledge.  Apropos  of 


14  The  Partridge  Family 

this,  the  reader  is  hereby  solemnly  warned  against 
touching  the  eggs  or  meddling  in  any  way  with 
the  nest.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  hen  can 
tell  if  her  home  has  been  invaded,  and  an  imme- 
diate desertion  of  it  is  liable  to  follow,  even  though 
the  eggs  be  almost  hatched.  When  a  nest  has 
been  accidentally  disturbed,  the  eggs  had  better  be 
taken  than  suffered  to  spoil.  They  are  excellent 
eating,  but  a  wiser  disposition  would  be  to  place 
them  under  a  bantam  hen  and  have  her  raise  the 
brood.  The  period  of  incubation  is  about  twenty- 
four  days;  and  providing  the  foster-mother  be  made 
to  perform  her  duties  within  a  suitable  enclosure, 
the  young  may  be  raised  without  any  great  trouble. 
Only  a  close  pen  or  a  wire  netting  of  small  mesh 
will  confine  the  active  things  until  they  have 
become  sufficiently  tame  to  be  trusted. 

My  first  attempt  at  rearing  young  quail  ended 
in  an  awful  tragedy.  Five  fresh  eggs  had  been 
found  and  were  placed  under  a  reliable  game  ban- 
tam. A  suitable  netting  was  erected  about  the 
nest,  and  in  due  time  five  young  quail  made  their 
appearance.  They  were  transferred  to  a  net- 
guarded  grass  run  which  included  two  large  ant- 
hills. In  a  week  the  youngsters  had  become 
quite  tame,  whereupon  a  misguided  but  well- 
meaning  person  concluded  to  do  a  kindly  act  — 
in  other  words,  meddle  —  and  turned  them  loose. 
The  bantam  mother  led  them  to  the  poultry 


Tbe  Quail  15 

yard,  which  was  presided  over  by  a  mighty  light 
brahma  cock.  Now  the  bantam  was  game,  and 
when  the  larger  hens,  who  had  forgotten  her  dur- 
ing the  enforced  absence,  gave  her  stony  stares, 
or,  it  may  be,  questioned  the  strict  legitimacy  of 
her  curious  progeny,  she  declared  war.  While 
she  was  battling  against  heavy  odds,  the  fool 
brahma  cock  spied  the  tiny  quail,  which  he  calmly 
devoured.  As  the  wee  legs  of  the  last  one  were 
disappearing,  a  slightly  delayed  but  impetuous 
brickbat  hit  the  brahma.  He  literally  met  his 
end  gamely,  but  as  he  happened  to  be  worth 
twenty-five  dollars,  a  certain  youthful  naturalist 
took  his  meals  standing  up  and  slept  on  his 
stomach  for  at  least  one  week.  This  sad  experi- 
ence, however,  need  not  deter  others  from  rearing 
quail.  In  suitable  runs  the  birds  will  breed  and 
prove  most  interesting  pets. 

In  the  natural  state  the  male  bird  takes  an 
occasional  turn  at  covering  the  eggs.  Young 
quail  are  extraordinarily  active,  being  able  to 
run  as  soon  as  they  escape  from  the  shell.  They 
are  exceedingly  pretty,  the  upper  parts  a  rich  chest- 
nut with  buff  below,  the  heads  chestnut  and  buff 
with  a  dark  line  behind  the  eye,  another  on  the 
forehead,  and  a  spot  at  the  angle  of  the  mouth. 
When  once  the  young  have  left  the  nest  they  are 
led  by  the  parents  to  the  best  feeding-ground,  and 
the  spot  of  their  birth  knows  them  no  more. 


1 6  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

Both  cock  and  hen  are  watchful  guardians,  and 
the  first  note  of  alarm  from  one  or  the  other  sends 
the  young  to  cover  with  an  amazing  celerity. 
Either  parent  will  simulate  lameness  to  draw  an 
intruder  away  from  the  skulking  chicks. 

A  brood  of  young  quail  suddenly  come  upon 
in  an  open  space  will  disappear  as  though  the 
ground  had  swallowed  them.  They  have  a  mar- 
vellous knack  of  diving  under  short  grass  and  tiny 
leaves,  and,  once  hidden,  they  will  remain  motion- 
less until  actually  trodden  upon.  In  anything  like 
cover,  a  search  for  them  would  resemble  the  quest 
of  the  proverbial  needle,  while  even  upon  almost 
bare  ground  only  the  sharpest  eyes  can  locate 
them.  Many  writers  have  claimed  that  a  chick 
will  turn  upon  its  back  and  cover  itself  with  a 
leaf  which  it  holds  in  position  by  its  feet.  This 
is,  to  say  the  least,  extremely  doubtful,  especially 
as  regards  the  holding  of  the  leaf  in  any  position 
by  either  feet  or  bill.  A  chick,  in  its  rapid  dart 
to  cover,  might  turn  upon  its  side,  or  even  upon 
its  back,  under  a  leaf.  In  its  anxiety  to  avoid  any 
telltale  movement,  it  might  remain  and  be  found 
in  the  awkward  position,  but  to  state  that  it  delib- 
erately seizes  the  leaf,  turns  over,  and  holds  the 
screen  in  position,  is  going  a  bit  too  far.  What 
it  actually  does,  in  all  probability  amounts  to 
nothing  more  than  an  instinctive  dive  into  the 
nearest  cover,  a  motionless  pause,  and  a  trust  to 


The  Quail  17 

coloration  and  the  quail  Providence.  If  those 
who  may  stumble  upon  a  brood  of  quail  will  take 
a  sportsman-naturalist's  advice,  they  will  promptly 
back  away  for  a  few  yards,  sit  down,  and  remain 
silently  watchful.  No  search  should  be  attempted, 
for  the  searcher  is  more  likely  to  trample  the  life 
out  of  the  youngsters  than  to  catch  one.  But  if 
he  hide  in  patience,  he  may  see  the  old  hen  return, 
mark  her  cautiously  stealing  to  the  spot,  and  hear 
her  low  musical  twitter  which  tells  that  the  peril 
has  passed.  Then  from  the  scant  tuft  here,  from 
the  drooping  leaf  yonder,  apparently  from  the  bare 
ground  over  which  his  eyes  have  roved  a  dozen 
times,  will  arise  active  balls  of  pretty  down  until 
the  spot  appears  to  swarm  with  them.  And  the 
devoted  mother  will  wrhisper  soft  greetings  to  each, 
and  in  some  mysterious  manner  will  make  the 
correct  count,  and  then  with  nervous  care  shep- 
herd them  forward  to  where  there  is  safer  cover. 
And  they  will  troop  after  her  in  perfect  confi- 
dence, to  resume  their  bug-hunting  and  botanical 
researches  as  though  nothing  important  had 
transpired. 

Young  quail  are  busy  foragers,  and  they  grow 
rapidly.  Within  a  few  days  after  leaving  the  nest 
they  are  capable  of  a  flight  of  several  yards.  A 
brood  flushed  by  a  dog  will  buzz  up  like  so  many 
overgrown  grasshoppers,  fly  a  short  distance,  then 
dive  into  cover  in  a  comical  imitation  of  the  tactics 


1 8  The  Partridge  Family 

of  their  seniors.  As  insect  catchers  they  are  un- 
rivalled, their  keen  eyes  and  tireless  little  legs 
being  a  most  efficient  equipment  even  for  a  sus- 
tained chase.  The  parents  scratch  for  them  and 
call  them  to  some  dainty  after  the  manner  of  ban- 
tam fowls,  and  the  shrewd  chicks  speedily  grasp 
the  idea  and  set  to  work  for  themselves.  A  tiny 
quail  scratching  in  a  dusty  spot  is  a  most  amus- 
ing sight.  The  wee  legs  twinkle  through  the 
various  movements,  at  a  rate  which  the  eye  can 
scarcely  follow,  and  the  sturdy  feet  kick  the  dust 
for  inches  around.  When  a  prey  is  uncovered  it 
is  pounced  upon  with  amazing  speed  and  accu- 
racy, while  a  flying  insect  may  call  forth  an  elec- 
tric leap  and  a  clean  catch  a  foot  or  more  above 
the  ground.  As  the  season  advances  grain,  seeds 
of  various  weeds,  berries,  wild  grapes,  and  mast 
are  added  to  the  menu,  in  which  insects  still 
remain  prominent.  After  the  wheat  has  been 
cut  the  broad  stubbles  become  favorite  resorts, 
especially  when  they  are  crowded  with  ragweed. 
Patches  of  standing  corn  now  furnish  attractive 
shelter  and  the  suitable  dusting-places  so  neces- 
sary to  gallinaceous  birds.  Quail,  as  a  rule,  go 
to  feed  early  in  the  morning  and  again  about  mid- 
afternoon,  lying  up  during  the  interval  in  some 
cosey  nook  which  offers  facilities  for  the  dust-bath 
and  a  quiet  siesta.  Not  infrequently  the  feeding- 
ground  is  a  considerable  distance  from  the  mid- 


The  Quail  19 

day  shelter,  in  which  case  the  bevy  may  fly  to  and 
fro,  instead  of  going  afoot.  When  walking  to 
their  feeding-ground  quail  almost  invariably  stick 
close  to  whatever  cover  there  may  be,  following 
a  weed-bordered  fence,  a  line  of  thicket,  or  some 
convenient  furrow.  This  habit  doubtless  is  a  pre- 
caution against  sudden  attacks  by  hawks.  Until 
the  young  birds  are  about  two-thirds  grown,  the 
plumage  is  pale  and  washy-looking,  presenting  a 
mottled  effect  very  unlike  the  richer  coloration 
of  the  adults.  The  young  are  then  termed  by 
sportsmen  "  cheepers,"  or  "  squeakers,"  owing  to 
the  fact  that  when  flushed  they  utter  a  hurried 
chirrup.  At  this  stage  they,  of  course,  are  unfit 
for  shooting  and  only  an  out  and  out  "  potter " 
would  draw  trigger  on  them.  Even  after  mid- 
October  these  immature  broods  are  constantly 
met  with,  and  frequently  they  are  a  nuisance  in 
thick  cover,  where  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish 
them  from  prime  specimens.  Dogs  will  stanchly 
point  them,  and  about  all  a  sportsman  can  do 
when  he  finds  himself  knocking  down  such  unde- 
sirable wretches,  is  to  call  off  his  canine  and  try 
a  new  beat.  As  a  rule  these  "  squeakers  "  are  a 
second  brood,  and  the  older  lot  may  be  somewhere 
close  by.  This  point  is  well  worth  remembering. 
When  once  beyond  the  squeaker  stage  and  wear- 
ing the  garb  of  their  parents,  the  young,  while 
perhaps  rather  small,  are  fit  quarry  for  any  man. 


20  The  Partridge  Family 

Still,  they  lack  the  headlong  dash  of  the  old  bird, 
and  taken  as  they  flush  are  comparatively  easy 
marks.  Your  true  sportsman  does  not  enthuse 
over  them.  What  he  wants  to  hear  is  that  pecul- 
iar hollow  "  Burr-r-r !  "  which  marks  the  rising  of 
a  strong,  fully  developed  bird.  To  the  trained  ear 
this  sound  is  genuine  music,  and  no  veteran  will 
mistake  it  for  the  less  pronounced  whirring  of  a 
younger  wing,  no  matter  how  large  the  owner  of 
that  wing  may  appear  to  be.  Trained  eyes,  too, 
can  almost  invariably  detect  the  sex  of  the  flushed 
bird.  To  the  ordinary  observer,  the  hen  quail, 
with  the  exception  of  the  stripe  over  the  eye  and 
the  throat,  is  very  like  the  male,  but  to  the  trained 
eye  there  is  a  marked  difference.  The  general 
tone  of  the  hen  is  brown,  that  of  the  male  bluish 
gray.  The  difference  is  slight,  but  it  is  there, 
and  a  master  of  quail-shooting  can  detect  it  even 
in  the  brief  glimpse  of  a  fast  bird  going  straight- 
away —  of  course  in  the  open. 

The  adult  male  is  marked  as  follows :  fore- 
head, stripe  over  the  eye  and  throat,  white ;  top 
of  head,  a  mixture  of  chestnut  and  black ;  sides  of 
neck,  prettily  marked  with  chestnut,  black,  and 
white  (in  many  specimens  the  conspicuous  stripe 
over  the  eye  is  tinged  with  buff) ;  general  tone  of 
the  back  and  wings,  a  mixture  of  chestnut,  yellow- 
ish brown,  and  gray  blotched  on  middle  of  the 
back  with  black;  a  black  mark  surrounds  the 


The  Quail 


21 


white  of  the  throat.    Breast  and  lower  parts,  buffy 
white,  crossed  with  narrow  wavy  lines  of  black. 
Flank  feathers,  chestnut  barred  with  black   and 
edged  with  white ;  tail,  bluish  gray ;  under   tail- 
coverts,  chestnut  marked  with  black.     Bill,  black  ; 
legs  and  feet,  yellowish  brown.     Roughly  speak- 
ing, the  female  is  buff  where  the  male  is  white  ; 
otherwise  the  markings  are  so  similar  that  an  un- 
scientific  eye   would   detect   no   difference.      In 
sportsmen's    parlance,  —  "  white    throat  —  cock ; 
buff   throat  —  hen."      Cocks   having   the   throat 
more  or  less  buff  are  occasionally  seen.     In  im- 
mature specimens  the  throat  marks  usually  are  a 
dirty  gray.     A  full-grown  quail  is  about  nine  and 
and  one-half  inches  long.    In  the  writer's  opinion 
the  largest  and  heaviest  bird  he  has  handled  was 
a  female.     The  size  and  markings  vary  considera- 
bly in  different  parts  of  the  country.     The  finest 
birds  seen  by  the  writer  were  in  western  Ontario 
and  Pennsylvania.    The  Florida  birds  are  smaller 
and   darker   in   color.     Pennsylvania   sportsmen 
frequently  speak  of  what  they  term  "  willow-legged 
quail,"  thereby  meaning  a  bird  with  a  greenish- 
tinted  leg  and  which  they  claim  is  a  trifle  larger 
and  finer  than  the  ordinary  type.     Of  a  number 
of  birds  examined,  none  showed  this  peculiarity, 
all  closely  resembling  the  best  Ontario  specimens. 
The   most  familiar   call  is,  of   course,  the  sweet 
"  Bob-white  "  of  the  male  during  the  spring  and 


22  The  Partridge  Family 

early  summer,  which  in  different  sections  is  also 
translated  into  "  More  wet  —  no  more  wet,"  "  More 
wheat  —  no  more  wheat,"  and  "  Buck-wheat  —  no 
buck-wheat."  The  last  is  a  close  imitation  and 
has  a  tinge  of  the  dry  humor  of  the  typical  farmer, 
who  knows  how  fond  the  bird  is  of  that  useful 
grain.  The  rallying  call,  after  a  bevy  has  been 
scattered,  is  loud  and  vibrant  with  tender  anxiety. 
A  well-known  authority  puts  it  thus  —  Quoi-i-hee, 
quoi-i-hee ;  others  twist  it  into  "  Where-are-you  ? 
Where-are-you  ? "  The  writer's  ear  may  be  at  fault, 
but  to  him  it  sounds  very  like  Ka-loi-hee,  Ka-loi- 
hee,  especially  when  the  old  hen  is  doing  the 
calling.  There  are  many  variations  of  it  too, 
Wkoil-kee  representing  a  common  one.  It  is 
an  open  question  if  the  cock  utters  this  call, 
although  some  accomplished  sportsmen  have 
claimed  that  he  does.  The  writer  has  been  a 
close  observer  of  quail  and  would  think  nothing 
of  calling  young  birds  almost  to  his  feet,  yet  he 
has  never  been  able  to  trace  this  call  to  the  old 
male,  that  is,  as  a  rallying  call  to  the  brood.  He 
is  well  aware  that  young  males  use  it  in  replying 
to  the  mother,  but  he  has  yet  to  see  a  male  of 
more  than  one  season  utter  it.  Apropos,  if  during 
the  mating  season  a  good  whistler  will  conceal 
himself  and  reply  to  the  Bob-whiting  of  some 
amorous  male,  he  can  draw  the  bird  across  even  a 
broad  field.  The  small  fellow  will  reply  louder 


The  Quail  23 

and  louder  and  will  get  madder  and  madder  and 
will  draw  nearer  and  nearer  until  he  is  perhaps 
only  a  few  yards  distant  and  full  of  fight.  Then 
let  the  whistler  utter  a  defiant  "  Bob-white,"  and 
suddenly  change  to  a  low,  tender  Ka-loi-hee  and 
note  the  effect  upon  Bob.  In  an  instant  he  is  a 
fussing,  fuming,  irresponsible  small  devil,  racing 
here  and  there  with  dragging  wings,  and  so  ex- 
cited that  he  can  hardly  sputter  out  his  challenges. 
A  repetition  of  the  Ka-loi-hee  may  bring  him 
booming  on  reckless  wings  almost  into  the 
observer's  face.  Now,  if  this  Ka-loi-hee  be  not  a 
hen's  call,  and  a  suggestion  to  him  that  his  hen  is 
playing  tricks  with  a  stranger  —  "  what's  he  f ussin' 
about?"  The  quail  utters  other  sounds.  While 
feeding  it  may  be  heard  to  twitter  in  a  low,  satis- 
fied sort  of  way.  A  winged  bird  running,  or  an  un- 
injured one  running  from  under  brush,  preparatory 
to  taking  wing,  frequently  voices  a  musical  tick- 
tick-tick-a-voy.  A  bird  closely  chased  by  a  hawk 
emits  a  sharp  cackling,  expressive  of  extreme  terror. 
Quite  frequently  a  bevy  just  before  taking  wing 
passes  round  a  low,  purring  note  —  presumably  a 
warning  to  spring  all  together.  When  the  hen  is 
calling  to  scattered  young,  she  sometimes  varies 
the  cry  to  an  abrupt  Ko-lang,  after  which  she  re- 
mains silent  for  some  time.  This  the  writer 
believes  to  be  a  hint  to  the  young  to  cease  calling 
—  that  the  danger  still  threatens,  and  is  prompted 


24  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

by  her  catching  a  glimpse  of  dog  or  man.  A 
bevy  travelling  afoot  keeps  up  what  may  be  termed 
a  twittering  conversation,  and  there  is  a  low  alarm 
note,  like  a  whispered  imitation  of  the  cry  of  a 
hen  when  a  hawk  appears. 

Toward  the  latter  part  of  September,  a  spirit  of 
restlessness  appears  to  disturb  the  earlier  broods 
which  are  then  nearly  fully  grown.  They  shift 
about  their  native  farm,  being  found  now  in  one 
field,  again  in  another.  In  a  few  days,  in  an 
average  season  about  the  first  of  October,  this 
restlessness  becomes  more  pronounced  until  it 
almost  assumes  the  nature  of  a  partial  migration 
—  if  indeed  it  be  not  that  in  the  proper  sense  of 
the  term.  The  bevies  appear  to  drift  across  coun- 
try, and  for  a  week  or  so  are  very  unsettled.  This 
may  be  a  trace  of  some  old-time  migrating  habit, 
but  that  point  had  best  be  left  to  some  purely 
scientific  court.  Certain  it  is  that  the  birds  travel 
sometimes  for  miles.  It  is  this  movement  which 
causes  so  many  bevies  to  suddenly  appear  in  the 
gardens  of  villages,  towns,  and  not  infrequently 
within  the  lawn  enclosures  of  important  cities. 
Just  why  the  birds  travel  is  not  readily  explained. 
They  are  not  in  quest  of  food,  for  they  will  leave 
excellent  ground  only  to  finally  locate,  maybe 
miles  away,  upon  ground  not  one  whit  better, 
while  other  quail  will  move  into  the  vacated  terri- 
tory. It  is  a  curious  movement  and  a  matter 


The  Quail  25 

which  even  our  shrewdest  observers  do  not  ap- 
pear to  thoroughly  understand.  All  the  writer 
can  say  about  it  is  that  beyond  question  it  takes 
place  ;  that  it  does  not  seem  to  be  an  easy  staging 
toward  suitable  winter  quarters,  for  the  best  of 
ground  will  be  passed  by,  but  rather  an  uneasy, 
haphazard  drifting  about  the  period  of  the  turn- 
ing of  the  leaf.  The  theory  that  the  disturbance 
by  late  harvesting  operations,  like  corn-cutting, 
starts  the  birds  moving  will  not  hold,  for  they 
move  from  undisturbed  territory  the  same  as  from 
any  other.  The  only  solution  seems  to  be  that  the 
remote  ancestors  of  the  quail  were  migrants  and 
that  the  old-time  instinct  has  not  yet  been  entirely 
eradicated.  If  we  knew  that  the  movement 
always  trended  in  the  one  direction,  the  solution 
of  the  problem  might  be  more  easily  attained,  but 
unfortunately  the  proof  of  the  birds'  moving  along 
any  defined  course  appears  to  be  lacking.  The 
fact  that  these  drifting  birds  seem  to  be  in  every 
case  full-grown  rather  strengthens  the  theory  out- 
lined. Nor  is  this  theoretical  migration  to  be 
confounded  with  the  shorter  movement  toward 
cover  as  the  cold  weather  asserts  itself.  This 
latter  is  merely  a  quest  for  the  warmest  available 
quarters,  and  is  no  more  migration  than  is  the 
movement  of  a  fowl  which  roosts  during  autumn 
in  an  apple  tree,  but  seeks  the  more  comfortable 
fowl-house  when  the  pinch  of  winter  comes. 


26  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

Quail,  when  undisturbed,  are  very  regular  in 
their  habits,  being  in  this  respect  not  unlike 
domestic  poultry.  Shortly  after  sunrise  they  are 
busy  seeking  food,  and  after  crops  are  well  filled 
they  seek  the  lounging  and  dusting  places,  there 
to  rest  and  enjoy  themselves  until  time  for  the 
afternoon  foraging.  As  dusk  approaches  they 
move  to  the  chosen  sleeping  place,  and  at  this 
hour  there  is  apt  to  be  considerable  calling  from 
one  to  another.  The  "roost,"  if  that  term  may 
be  used,  very  frequently  is  in  a  mat  of  low  cat- 
briers,  or  thickly  growing  weeds.  In  such  shel- 
ter the  birds  squat  upon  the  ground,  usually  in  a 
rough  circle  with  heads  pointing  out.  This,  pre- 
sumably, is  a  precautionary  arrangement  against 
a  night  attack  by  some  prowling  foe.  Under 
ordinary  conditions  the  bevy  will  return  to  the 
same  spot  for  many  nights  in  succession.  Proof 
of  this  is  furnished  by  the  accumulation  of 
droppings,  which  after  a  time  become  quite  con- 
spicuous. The  often  advanced  claim  that  quail 
always  roost  upon  the  ground  is  not  true.  As  a 
rule  they  do,  and  in  some  sorts  of  country  they 
must,  but  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  them 
regularly  roosting  in  such  places  as  a  mass  of 
wild  grape-vines  attached  to  a  fence  or  tree,  in 
some  thick,  bushy  tree,  in  an  apple  tree  near  the 
poultry,  sometimes  in  the  fowl-house,  barn,  or 
stable,  on  the  lower  rails  of  a  weedy  fence,  on 


The  Quail  27 

top  of  logs,  and  occasionally  on  the  bare  rails 
of  a  fence.  Only  the  belated  sportsman,  who  has 
blundered  upon  them  while  trying  to  climb  a 
fence  in  the  dark,  can  rightly  describe  the  thrill 
caused  by  the  unexpected  and  thunderous  flush. 
Speaking  of  noisy  flight  —  a  peculiarity  of  quail 
lies  in  the  fact  that  the  characteristic  resonant 
"  Burr-r-r ! "  of  the  startled  bird  is  not  invariably 
heard  when  a  single  one,  or  a  bevy,  rises  un- 
alarmed.  The  writer  repeatedly  has  seen  whole 
bevies  flush  with  no  more  noise  than  might  be 
caused  by  an  equal  number  of  sparrows,  and 
single  birds  rising  and  flying  toward  a  caller  sel- 
dom if  ever  make  any  noticeable  whirring.  Again, 
when  calling,  he  has  seen  birds  silently  rise  and 
fly  within  a  few  yards,  then  sheer  off  on  noisy 
wings  as  they  caught  sight  of  him.  The  same 
thing  is  true  of  that  thunder-winged  fellow,  the 
ruffed  grouse.  It  may  be  the  noisy  flush  has  a 
purpose  in  an  attempt  to  momentarily  startle  and 
confuse  an  enemy. 

The  habits  of  the  quail  vary  with  the  weather 
and  season.  During  windless,  warm  days,  after 
the  first  flush,  they  will  scatter  and  lie  like  so 
many  stones.  Should  the  day  be  very  humid,  or 
if  rain  be  falling,  they  may  refuse  to  lie  at  all  and 
run  like  "quarter  horses,"  perhaps  for  hundreds 
of  yards,  then  flush  wild,  pitch,  and  again  run 
on.  In  bleak,  windy  weather  they  are  apt  to  be 


28  The  Partridge  Family 

very  wild,  to  refuse  to  lie  to  the  best  of  dogs  in 
the  open,  and  to  whizz  away  in  long  flight  to 
the  heavy  timber.  During  a  snow-storm,  too,  the 
chances  are  in  favor  of  their  acting  in  a  most 
erratic  manner.  These  are  bad  times  for  dog 
and  man,  and  to  make  a  good  bag  is  well-nigh 
an  impossibility.  Under  these  conditions,  too, 
they  are  given  to  that  exasperating  trick,  tree- 
ing, after  the  first  flush,  and  when  quail  take  to 
the  trees  the  sportsman's  lot  is  not  a  happy  one. 
The  best  thing  a  man  can  do  then  is  to  leave 
those  birds  for  the  day  and  seek  another  bevy; 
for  he  will  not,  of  course,  pot  them  as  they  sit, 
even  should  he  be  able  to  make  them  out,  which 
is  no  easy  matter  in  tall  timber. 

A  marked  peculiarity  attributed  to  the  quail, 
and  one  over  which  many  able  writers  have  dis- 
agreed, is  their  alleged  power  of  withholding 
body-scent  at  their  discretion.  "  Can  quail  with- 
hold their  scent  ?  "  has  been  the  subject  of  many 
an  inky  tourney.  That  they  do  voluntarily,  or 
involuntarily,  temporarily  withhold  body-scent 
has  been  claimed  by  many  a  veteran  who  has 
seen  dogs  of  unquestioned  high  class  utterly  fail 
to  locate  birds  where  they  have  been  marked 
down.  The  writer  has  seen  such  things  happen 
—  nay !  he  has  even  seen  a  rare  good  dog  actu- 
ally step  on  a  bird  and  never  dream  of  its  pres- 
ence till  it  flushed  under  his  belly,  yet  that  did 


Tbe  Quail  29 

not  prove  any  mysterious  power  on  the  bird's 
part  of  controlling  its  scent.  The  fact  was  that 
the  quail  in  question  had  just  completed  what 
might  be  termed  an  air  bath  —  a  cleansing  rush 
through  pure  air  —  it  had  pitched  and  squatted 
where  it  struck  without  running  at  all,  thus  leav- 
ing no  foot-scent;  it  was  badly  scared  and  had 
its  plumage  compressed  about  it  as  tightly  as 
possible,  and  all  these  things  combined  for  the 
moment  prevented  the  spread  of  the  telltale  odor. 
By  squatting  where  it  struck,  the  bird  literally 
covered  its  tracks,  i.e.  it  was  over  the  spot 
where  its  feet  had  touched.  Had  it  run  even  a 
few  strides,  the  questing  nose  would  surely  have 
found  the  trail.  The  explanation  that  a  dog, 
fresh  from  a  point,  may  have  his  "  nose  so  full  of 
scent "  that  he  is  unable  to  detect  a  faint  trail,  is 
no  explanation  at  all.  Good  dogs  often  point 
newly  pitched  quail  while  in  the  act  of  retrieving 
a  bird  just  killed.  A  dog  of  the  writer's,  while 
holding  a  quail  in  his  mouth  with  the  wing 
directly  across  his  nostrils,  once  pulled  up  on  an- 
other bird  which  had  not  been  in  its  hiding-place 
more  than  a  minute.  Then,  if  ever,  would  his 
nose  have  been  "  full  of  scent,"  yet  he  was  able  to 
pin  the  live  bird,  because  in  all  probability  it  had 
run  to  its  hiding-place. 


30  Tbe  Partridge  Family 


THE    SHOOTING   OF   THE    QUAIL 

While  "  to  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot " 
is  not  the  exact  purpose  of  this  chapter,  perhaps 
a  few  remarks  concerning  the  outfit  and  certain 
"  wrinkles  "  anent  field-shooting  may  not  be  out 
of  place.  So  long  as  individual  tastes  differ  there 
will  be  variations  of  opinion  concerning  that  most 
important  thing,  —  the  gun.  Many  men  prefer  an 
exceedingly  light  arm,  claiming,  and  this  cor- 
rectly enough,  that  a  light,  small  gauge  calls  for 
the  greater  skill,  and,  like  the  fragile,  feather- 
weight trout  rod,  is  the  only  thing  fit  for  the 
hand  of  a  master.  That  is  all  very  well,  but  it 
may  be  carried  too  far.  During  the  early  part 
of  the  season,  when  birds  are  young  and  unedu- 
cated, when  there  is  cover  everywhere  and  a  bird 
seldom  flushes  more  than  a  yard  or  so  from  one's 
boot,  almost  any  small  gun  will  answer.  At  this 
time,  too,  the  weather  is  apt  to  be  warm,  under 
which  condition  the  reduction  in  weight  of  arm 
and  ammunition  is  a  decided  advantage.  The 
decrease  in  the  killing  range  is  then  a  matter  of 
small  consequence,  for  the  great  majority  of  shots, 
except  second  barrels,  will  be  at  thirty  yards  and 
under.  This  may  appear  very  close,  but  a  few 
actual  measurements  will  verify  the  statement. 
In  point  of  fact,  the  average  kills  of  a  fairly  quick 
shot  will  be  at  a  range  of  about  twenty  to  twenty- 


Tbe  Quail  31 

five  yards  or  less.  At  such  a  distance,  the  smallest 
of  guns  should,  in  good  hands,  prove  sufficiently 
effective,  but  that  is  not  the  important  point.  If 
a  gun  be  of  fourteen,  sixteen,  or  twenty  gauge,  it 
needs  must  be  of  first-class  grade  to  be  reliable 
and  safe  to  use.  Hence,  a  man  must  have  a 
special  gun  for,  say  at  a  liberal  estimate,  the  first 
half  of  the  season ;  and  later  on,  after  the  birds 
have  become  educated  and  the  cover  is  not  so 
abundant,  the  shooting  range  is  materially  in- 
creased, whereupon  the  small  gun  is  at  once  at  a 
disadvantage.  Worse  than  that,  entirely  owing 
to  lack  of  power,  the  use  of  it  in  skilled  hands  is 
certain  to  mean  a  lot  of  wounded  birds.  Then, 
again,  the  small  gun  is  good  only  for  close-rising 
quail,  woodcock,  and  snipe,  which  means  that  a 
second,  heavier  gun  must  be  kept  for  all-round 
work.  In  this  event,  the  change  of  arm  is  not 
calculated  to  improve  one's  shooting.  Another 
disadvantage  of  the  smaller  guns  lies  in  the  diffi- 
culty of  procuring  suitable  ammunition  in  an 
emergency.  Of  course,  the  resident  of  a  large 
city  may  readily  buy  shells  of  any  size  and  load, 
but  quail-shooting  is  not  a  characteristic  sport  of 
the  streets  of  a  large  city.  The  best  of  it  is 
found  where  stores  are  few  and  rush  orders  not 
a  specialty ;  hence,  an  accident  or  a  misdirected 
package  may  mean  the  ruination  of  a  hard-earned 
holiday.  Any  mishap  to  the  man  using  the  odd- 


32  The  Partridge  Family 

sized  gun  may  prove  a  genuine  disaster,  while  the 
man  with  the  twelve-gauge  may  restock  from  any 
country  store,  or,  if  in  the  field,  borrow  from  his 
comrade  or  any  one  he  may  meet.  The  reader 
will  readily  understand  the  importance  of  these 
points,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  sole 
advantage  of  the  smaller  gun  lies  in  the  trifling 
reduction  of  weight,  the  choice  becomes  a  simple 
matter.  I  have  tried  arms  by  many  makers  and 
of  all  practical  sizes,  and  I  unhesitatingly  recom- 
mend a  twelve-gauge,  by  a  first-class  firm  and  of 
weight,  etc.,  to  suit  the  individual.  If  the  novice 
decides  to  purchase  the  best  obtainable  he  will 
make  no  mistake,  for  a  really  fine  gun,  like  a  fine 
watch,  properly  cared  for,  should  last  a  lifetime. 
It  should,  of  course,  be  a  hammerless  ejector,  the 
safest  and  most  efficient  gun  now  available,  and 
if  it  weigh  between  seven  and  eight  pounds  it 
will  be  the  proper  thing  for  ninety-nine  out  of 
one  hundred  men.  Equally,  of  course,  the  powder 
should  be  of  the  smokeless  brand,  for  the  less 
suspicion  of  smoke  the  better  for  the  chances  of 
the  second  barrel,  particularly  in  cover-shooting 
and  upon  dark,  humid  days. 

The  costume  is  also  worthy  of  attention.  One 
of  the  best  consists  of  medium-weight,  dead-grass 
color  duck  for  coat,  vest,  and  pants,  and  duck  or 
felt  hat,  or  a  corduroy  cap  to  match.  The  boots 
should  be  of  the  recognized  shooting  pattern, 


The  Quail  33 

waterproof  if  possible,  but  above  all  they  should 
fit.  A  man  on  a  long  tramp  is  like  a  horse ;  he 
is  only  as  good  as  his  feet,  and  hardly  too  much 
care  can  be  exercised  over  the  boots  and  socks. 
All  underwear  should  be  of  light,  pure  woollen 
fabric,  which  will  prevent  chill  after  a  wetting  or 
during  a  long  ride.  The  handiest  place  for  the 
shells  is  an  outside  pocket,  for  if  the  coat  be 
properly  made  the  weight  of  them  will  not  inter- 
fere with  free  action  of  the  arms.  Bags,  belts, 
and  vest  devices  for  carrying  shells  come  under 
the  general  head  of  infernal  nuisances. 

And  now  an  extremely  important  question, — 
the  dog !  So  long  as  he  be  a  free  ranger,  of  good 
nose,  intelligent,  and  properly  broken,  he  may  be 
either  pointer  or  setter.  Both  are  good,  equally 
good,  taking  the  season  through.  By  reason  of 
his  coat  the  pointer  is  better  for  warm  weather, 
and  he  can  travel  on  less  water  than  the  setter, 
while  for  the  same  reason  he  seldom  is  so  good 
for  cold,  rough  work,  especially  in  thorny  cover 
or  coarse  grass.  In  actual  merit,  including  bird 
sense,  speed,  nose,  and  staying  qualities  —  in  fine, 
every  hunting  quality  —  they  rank  about  even. 
The  pointer  is  apt  to  be  the  better  for  the  man 
who  can  only  occasionally  go  afield,  as  he 
will  keep  steady  on  less  work,  while  to  all  but 
a  pointer  man,  the  setter  is  the  more  beautiful 
and  companionable  dog.  Of  the  merits  of  the 


34  The  Partridge  Family 

three  prominent  breeds,  Llewellin,  Irish,  and  Gor- 
don, a  little  may  here  be  said  appropriately  — 
possibly  their  proper  rank  should  be  in  order  as 
named. 

Breeders  of  the  modern  Llewellin  setter,  encour- 
aged by  the  racing  methods  of  field  trials,  have 
bred  for  a  combination  of  speed  and  style  likely 
to  catch  a  judge's  eye.  They  have  lost  a  deal  of 
the  beauty  of  the  original  type,  as  exemplified  by 
famous  old  Llewellins  and  Laveracks,  but  they 
have  produced  a  racing  machine,  and  what  fre- 
quently is  certainly  a  rare  good  dog  for  an  athletic 
and  keen  man.  The  typical  Llewellin  now  is  a 
compact  bundle  of  running  gear,  not  so  desirable 
a  companion  maybe,  but  certainly  a  bird  finder. 
The  actual  value  of  the  type  depends  upon  the 
individual  called  upon  to  give  the  decision.  Many 
sportsmen  would  prefer  the  handsomer  and  per- 
haps staider  animals  of  a  few  years  ago.  The 
development  of  a  breed  to  a  point  where  we  find 
two  types,  —  one  to  look  at,  the  other  to  race,  —  i.e. 
"  bench  type  "  and  "  field  type,"  may  or  may  not 
-for  the  best  interests  of  that  breed. 

The  Irish  setter,  as  he  should  be,  is  a  strong, 
intelligent,  wiry  dog,  somewhat  hard  to  break  and 
control,  but  a  rare  good  one  when  firmly  and 
wisely  handled.  The  chief  objection  to  him  as  a 
field  worker  is  based  upon  his  color.  However 
beautiful  the  true  mahogany  red  may  be,  it  is 


Tbe  Quail  35 

extremely  difficult  to  locate  when  the  dog  is  halted 
among  rotten  logs,  stumps,  and  cover  wherein 
various  shades  of  red  and  brown  predominate. 
The  same  objection  applies  to  the  Gordon,  to  the 
all-black,  all-roan,  or  to  any  other  coat  inconspicu- 
ous in  color.  Of  course,  in  the  open,  the  coat  is 
not  so  important,  but  in  average  quail-shooting 
work  in  cover  represents  fully  three-fourths  of  the 
task ;  hence,  the  best  coat  is  a  conspicuous  mix- 
ture of  dark  and  white,  which  may  be  easily  seen 
both  in  thick  cover  and  against  a  snowy  back- 
ground. 

Quail-shooting,  early  in  the  season,  is  compara- 
tively easy.  The  birds  flush  almost  underfoot, 
they  fly  only  moderately  fast,  and  they  cannot 
carry  off  much  shot.  The  chief  obstacle  to  good 
scores  is  thick  cover;  were  it  not  for  this,  an 
ordinarily  good  shot  should  grass  about  three- 
fourths  of  his  birds.  Later  on  it  is  different; 
then  half  the  birds,  taking  them  in  and  out  of 
cover,  would  be  an  excellent  average  for  the  sea- 
son. A  few  suggestions  to  the  novice  may  not 
be  out  of  place. 

First,  if  you  have  a  good  dog,  let  him  alone  — 
keep  your  eye  on  him,  but  let  him  run.  Avoid 
all  bawling  of  commands,  because  the  sound  of 
the  voice  is  apt  to  cause  an  untimely  flush 
when  otherwise  the  bevy  might  have  lain  close. 
Direct  the  dog  by  whistle  and  signals — birds 


36  The  Partridge  Family 

appear  to  pay  no  attention  to  the  shrilling  of  a 
dog  whistle.  Send  a  dog  into  a  field  from  the  lee 
side  whenever  possible,  then  naturally  he  will  beat 
up  wind  with  everything  in  his  favor  as  it  should 
be.  He  will  go  up- wind  to  his  birds  (the  first  time 
anyway),  so,  if  you  prefer  a  straightaway  shot,  you 
may  go  up-wind  to  the  dog  and  thus  secure  it  in 
the  majority  of  cases.  Cultivate  the  habit  of 
examining  the  ground  near  your  feet,  while  at  the 
same  time  not  losing  track  of  the  dog's  move- 
ments. The  droppings  and  dusting  places  of  the 
birds  are  at  once  detected  by  a  practised  eye,  and 
there  may  be  a  shed  feather  here  and  there  which 
will  give  you  a  line  on.  the  age  of  the  bevy. 
Should  the  dog  seem  to  find  scent,  yet  fail  to 
locate,  study  the  lay  of  the  land,  particularly  the 
nearest  cover.  If  the  ground  "  sign,"  as  just 
mentioned,  indicates  that  birds  frequent  the  field, 
the  chances  are  that  while  the  dog  has  found 
scent,  the  birds  are  elsewhere.  They  may  have 
been  recently  flushed  by  some  one  belonging  in 
the  neighborhood,  by  a  hawk,  or  some  four-footed 
foe — perhaps  a  cat.  In  any  event  they  will 
almost  certainly  have  gone  to  cover,  and  probably 
are  not  more  than  three  or  four  hundred  yards 
away.  Of  course  dog  tracks,  footprints,  or  empty 
shells  will  indicate  that  somebody  has  worked  the 
piece  ahead  of  you.  If  no  sound  of  shooting 
comes  from  the  cover,  it  is  open  to  you ;  but  if 


The  Quail  37 

you  hear  shooting,  don't  rush  over  and  plunge  into 
some  other  man's  sport.  There  is  no  harm,  how- 
ever, in  a  gentlemanly  investigation  and  a  sports- 
manlike meeting  with  the  other  fellow.  You  may 
make  a  charming  acquaintance  and  double  forces 
for  the  day  to  mutual  advantage.  But  in  true 
field  courtesy  the  rights  of  the  situation  are  his, 
and  no  sportsman  will  go  into  action  without  an 
invitation  from  the  man  working  on  the  game. 
These  little  matters  are  well  worth  attention,  for 
the  observance  of  the  unwritten  law  is  what  dis- 
tinguishes the  sportsman  from  the  fellow  out 
gunning. 

Let  us  imagine  the  opening  day  of  an  average 
season, —  bright  warm  weather,  the  leaves  still  on 
all  growths,  and  the  usual  crop  of  weeds  and 
burrs  up  to  standard.  The  sun  has  been  up  two 
hours,  and  two  men  and  one  good  dog  are  ready 
for  business.  The  ground  to  be  worked  is  typical 
of  the  East,  divided  into  medium-sized  fields, 
which  means  many  fences  with  weedy  cover  about 
them  and  a  tree  here  and  there  along  the  side-lines. 
A  rough  classification  of  the  fields  would  be  one- 
fourth  wheat-stubble,  one-fourth  standing  corn,  one- 
fourth  rough  pasture,  and  the  remaining  fourth 
a  combination  of  stump-lot,  thicket,  and  standing 
timber.  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  —  rare  good 
quail  country !  that  is,  it  is,  or  should  be.  If  there 
happen  to  be  a  trifle  of  air  stirring,  so  much  the 


38  The  Partridge  Family 

better,  but  the  seasonable  lack  of  it  will  not  greatly 
matter. 

From  the  top  of  the  fence  you  scan  the 
ground  and  decide  upon  how  it  may  best  be 
worked.  You,  being  wiser  than  your  comrade, 
elect  yourself  to  the  presidency  with  full  powers 
to  force  any  emergency  legislation  and  to  veto 
anything  that  doesn't  suit  your  book.  Because 
it  is  still  early,  you  know  that  the  quail  may  not 
have  finished  breakfast,  so  you  order  a  skirmish 
through  the  stubble.  You  take  the  collar  off  the 
dog,  to  prevent  a  useless  drag,  or  a  possible  hang- 
ing at  some  fence,  and  bid  him,  "  Hi  on  !  "  As 
he  darts  away  you  slip  into  the  weather  berth, 
i.e.  upon  the  right  of  your  comrade,  if  he  be  a 
right-handed  man.  Some  overlook  the  marked 
advantages  of  this  position,  but  you  will  not  do 
so  because  you  know  that  should  your  companion 
accidentally  discharge  his  gun  the  shot  can  hardly 
come  anywhere  near  you.  It  is  better  so,  as  it  is 
better  in  case  of  accidents  that  the  other  fellow 
should  prove  pattern,  penetration,  and  whatever 
else  may  be  decided.  An  artist  in  his  line  will  walk 
along  the  big  furrow  at  the  windward  side  of  the 
field  and  will  keep  a  keen  eye  on  the  ground  for 
the  telltale  whitish  droppings.  Meanwhile,  the 
dog  is  cutting  out  his  ground  to  signal  by  whistle 
and  hand,  and  presently  he  slows  a  bit,  perhaps 
lowers  his  nose,  and  by  increased  stern  action 


The  Quail  39 

shows  that  he  has  found  scent.  Then  up  goes 
his  head  and  there  begins  that  beautiful  and 
impressive  movement  "  reading,"  or  "  drawing," 
which  ends  with  the  confident  "point,"  which 
never  fails  to  stir  the  very  heartstrings  of  a  true 
sportsman.  Your  dog  has  them  ;  and  now  see 
that  you  prove  your  superior  intelligence  by  aid- 
ing instead  of  bothering  him. 

There  is  no  occasion  for  quickening  your  pace, 
or  for  any  of  the  foolishness  of  which  too  many 
men  are  guilty.  Don't  bawl  at  the  dog,  or  go 
tearing  through  the  stubble  as  though  you  im- 
agined the  dog  to  be  an  unreliable  fool.  Your 
voice  may  cause  the  birds  to  flush,  and  any  show 
of  excitement  will  only  shake  the  dog's  sublime 
confidence  in  your  superiority  and  perhaps  make 
him  unsteady.  Keep  your  eye  on  him,  and  should 
he  appear  to  be  wavering,  steady  him  with  a  low 
"  To-ho  !  "  otherwise  keep  your  mouth  shut.  Ten 
to  one  he'll  hold  the  point,  for  both  dogs  and 
horses  appear  to  understand  when  they  are  im- 
plicitly trusted,  and  to  behave  their  best  in  return. 
Still  keeping  to  the  right  of  your  comrade,  move 
steadily  forward.  The  rustle  of  approaching  feet 
may  possibly  cause  the  dog  to  twitch  a  bit,  but  a 
low  caution  will  remedy  that.  Should  he  show 
signs  of  an  inclination  to  break  point,  check  him 
sharply  and  make  him  hold  it  for  a  few  minutes 
while  you  wait.  This  discipline  is  good  for  him 


40  The  Partridge  Family 

and  not  bad  for  you,  indeed  a  regular  dose  of  it 
may  prevent  serious  faults.  As  a  general  rule 
birds  found  as  described  will  flush  when  the  guns 
have  approached  within  a  few  yards.  As  they  go 
up  the  dog  should  go  down,  and  remain  down 
until  ordered  up.  Most  dogs  are  broken  to  drop 
to  wing  and  to  shot,  i.e.  to  go  down  upon  their 
bellies.  This  prevents  any  attempt  at  chasing 
or  other  fool  capers,  and  so  far  is  a  useful  accom- 
plishment. There  are,  however,  objections  to  it. 
A  dog  down  flat  cannot  see  what  is  going  on, 
and  when  his  head  is  buried  in  thick  and  perhaps 
dusty  growth,  he  gets  the  least  pure  air  at  a  time 
when  he  needs  the  most.  For  these  reasons  the 
writer's  dogs  are  allowed  to  sit  down  instead  of 
dropping.  In  this  position  they  get  all  the  air  they 
need,  they  can  see  the  kills,  and,  more  important, 
mark  down  whichever  birds  may  be  only  wounded, 
or  unwounded  birds  that  may  have  caught  their 
eye.  Some  dogs  become  very  clever  at  marking 
down,  and  this  extra  accomplishment  frequently 
proves  extremely  valuable. 

It  is  an  unwritten  law  among  sportsmen  that 
there  should  be  no  cross-firing.  The  man  on  the 
left  is  supposed  to  shoot  at  birds  going  to  the  left, 
or  at  those  at  the  left  of  the  bevy  should  it  drive 
straight  away.  The  man  on  the  right  governs 
himself  accordingly,  which  prevents  that  annoy- 
ing thing,  two  guns  discharged  at  the  same  bird, 


The  Quail  41 

or,  that  still  more  annoying  misunderstanding 
about  who  scored.  Systematic  shooting  is  not 
only  more  pleasant,  but  it  bags  more  birds,  as 
can  be  readily  imagined.  When  only  one  bird 
is  expected,  true  courtesy  will  prompt  the  better 
shot  to  allow  his  companion  the  first  chance,  or  if 
the  men  be  equally  good  marksmen,  the  host  should 
give  the  first  chance  to  his  guest.  In  so  doing 
virtue  may  be  its  own  reward,  for  there  is  nothing 
in  the  articles  of  war  to  prevent  a  strictly  courteous 
man  from  wiping  a  duffer's  eye  the  moment  after 
he  has  missed !  When  a  doubt  exists  as  to  what 
may  flush,  "  Your  bird,"  or  "  Take  the  bird  "  from 
one  or  the  other  will  settle  the  point.  And  it  is 
well  to  observe  these  small  matters,  for  some  excel- 
lent men  are  hasty  when  their  blood  is  up,  especially 
after  they  have  missed  a  few  times.  True  sports- 
manship never  touches  a  man  on  a  raw  spot. 
Good-natured  chaff  is  all  very  well,  but  a  rather 
dangerous  form  of  amusement  in  the  field,  where 
a  single  injudicious  remark  may  mar  the  pure 
pleasure  of  an  hour,  or  perchance  of  a  day.  There 
are  many  men  who  cannot  score  regularly  on 
bevies,  while  they  are  able  to  perform  quite 
creditably  on  single  birds  which  they  walk  up 
for  themselves.  The  reason  for  this  usually  is 
nervousness,  partly  due  to  the  close  proximity 
of  the  second  gun,  and  partly  to  the  startling 
flush  of  a  number  of  birds  together.  In  nine 


42  The  Partridge  Family 

cases  out  of  ten,  a  nervous  man  shoots  too 
quickly.  He  is  so  worked  up  and  so  full  of 
what  he  intends  to  do,  that  he  pulls  trigger 
before  the  gun  is  where  it  should  be  and  then, 
if  he  uses  the  second  barrel,  he  rattles  it  in  some- 
where about  the  general  direction.  This,  of  course, 
is  no  way  to  shoot,  and  a  comical  feature  about  it 
is  that  every  now  and  then  the  haphazard  method 
kills  —  possibly  on  a  certain  lucky  day,  for  several 
times  in  succession.  Then  the  nervous  man 
grows  idiotically  enthusiastic,  and  declares  that 
he  has  just  caught  the  hang  of  it.  On  some  other 
day  he  begins  by  missing,  gets  rattled,  and  makes 
a  mess  of  things  generally,  whereupon  he  adds  to 
his  excitement  by  losing  his  temper  and  usually 
winds  up  by  fluently  cursing  the  dog,  or  the  gun, 
or  the  shells.  Young  sportsmen  should  remem- 
ber that  exhibitions  of  temper  and  foolish  attempts 
at  explanation  are  sure  indications  of  inferior  skill 
and  bad  manners.  In  crisp  contrast  is  the  vet- 
eran's perhaps  mirthful  "  I  was  behind,"  or  "  too 
low,"  in  explanation  of  his  failure.  He  well 
knows  where  lay  the  fault,  and  instead  of  prat- 
ing about  it,  forms  a  grim  resolve  to  remedy  it 
the  next  opportunity. 

There  is  no  need  for  undue  haste  in  quail 
shooting  in  the  open.  The  birds,  as  a  rule,  rise 
within  a  few  yards,  more  often  than  not  from 
almost  under  foot,  and  almost  invariably  their 


The  Quail 


43 


speed  is  overestimated  even  by  old  hands  at  the 
game.  A  little  stepping-off  of  the  ground  after 
the  kill  will  prove  this.  What  looked  like  forty- 
five  yards  will  turn  out  to  be  about  ten  yards  less, 
and  it  holds  good  of  shorter  distances.  Indeed, 
a  quail  actually  forty  odd  yards  from  the  gun 
would  appear  to  be  a  very  long  shot.  In  cover, 
the  great  majority  of  shots  are  at  a  range  less 
than  thirty  yards.  If  any  one  doubt  this,  let  him 
hang  up  a  bird,  then  step  off  thirty  yards,  and  turn 
and  look.  What  he  sees  will  teach  him  some- 
thing about  distances  in  cover. 

The  first  bird  (early  in  the  season)  to  show 
above  the  cover  is  apt  to  be  the  old  hen.  This  is 
because  she  is  surely  the  strongest  and  wisest  of 
the  lot  and  the  natural  leader.  Presumably,  too, 
she  it  is  who  gives  the  signal  when  to  take  wing, 
else  it  would  be  hard  to  account  for  the  almost 
even  start  which  all  usually  get.  Later  in  the 
season  she  frequently  is  last  away,  but  that  is 
another  matter.  She  has  the  noisiest  wing,  and 
she  is  likely  to  show  larger  than  the  others. 
Pick  her  out,  if  you  can  (trained  eyes  can  do  it), 
and  knock  her  over  there  and  then.  Never  mind 
the  others,  give  her  both  barrels  if  required,  but 
stop  her  !  The  reason  for  this  is  simple  enough. 
A  number,  perhaps  the  majority  of  the  bevy, 
assuredly  will  follow  her  to  cover  and  will  pitch 
near  where  she  does.  So  long  as  she  is  with 


44  The  Partridge  Family 

them,  the  young  birds  will  neither  call  nor 
respond  to  the  most  clever  imitation  of  the  rally- 
ing pipe.  With  her  out  of  the  way,  the  young- 
sters are  like  so  many  lost  lambs,  only  too  ready 
to  respond  to  even  a  crude  imitation  of  the  loved 
voice  of  their  shepherd.  The  habit  of  looking 
for  the  old  hen  has  another  value.  It  helps  a 
man  to  learn  how  to  pick  his  birds  —  a  most 
important  feature  of  steady  shooting.  When  he 
can  do  this,  and  has  learned  to  lead  all  quarterers 
according  to  distance,  to  hold  high  on  straighta- 
ways about  as  high  as  his  head,  low  on  low-flying 
straightaways  and  dead  on  incomers,  and  to  pull 
trigger  with  the  finger  and  not  with  the  hand  and 
arm,  and  to  do  it  without  stopping  the  smooth 
swing  of  the  gun,  —  he  should  be  quite  a  quail 
shot. 

Just  after  the  bevy  has  gone,  and  when  one  or 
more  birds  are  down,  is  when  the  novice  or  the 
over  excitable  man  makes  serious  blunders.  The 
first  thing  to  do  is  to  stand  in  your  tracks  and 
reload,  the  dog  meanwhile  being  down.  Keep 
him  so  for  the  moment,  then  calmly  order  'him 
on,  either  to  retrieve,  or  to  point  dead,  according 
to  his  training.  Few  novices  realize  the  full 
importance  of  a  leisurely,  methodical  deportment 
Dogs  are  clever  judges  of  character,  and  a  brainy 
brute  is  quick  to  measure  his  man.  Any  undue 
excitement,  or  flurried  haste  to  secure  the  game, 


The  Quail  45 

will  give  the  dog  the  tip  that  he  is  out  with  a 
man  with  whom  he  may  take  liberties,  and  he 
surely  will  act  upon  it.  This  is  why  so  many 
dogs,  which  are  paragons  of  perfection  when 
under  the  eyes  of  their  trainer,  act  so  unruly 
when  loaned  for  a  day  or  so ;  this  is  why,  too,  an 
otherwise  faultily  good-natured  man  will  sternly 
refuse  to  loan  his  dog.  To  dog  owners  the  writer 
would  earnestly  say,  —  never  lend  a  fine  dog, 
except  to  a  man  who  knows  more  about  dogs 
than  you  do,  and  even  then  make  sure  that  the 
borrower  understands  your  methods  and  words  of 
command,  else  he  may  start  talking  what,  to  the 
poor  dog,  may  sound  like  Chinook,  or  Chinese,  or 
Esquimaux,  or  anything  that  is  utterly  unintelli- 
gible. A  dog  is  a  poor  linguist,  and  for  this  and 
other  good  reasons  the  fewer  and  more  sharply 
distinct  the  words  of  command,  the  better. 
Never  roar  at  a  dog,  you  are  supposed  to  be  the 
more  intelligent  animal  of  the  two ;  and  if  you 
never  bawl  your  commands,  the  dog  will  never 
guess  that  you  possess  the  power  to  do  so,  and  in 
the  field  he  will  heed  a  firmly  quiet  command  as 
though  it  were  the  harshest  you  were  capable  of 
delivering.  Also  omit  the  too  common  cursing. 
The  dog  is  clean-minded,  and  so  does  not  under- 
stand ;  while  a  volley  of  profanity  can  only  kill 
the  man's  self-control,  and  possibly  some  of  his 
fun  in  the  Happy  Hunting-grounds.  Keep  all 


46  The  Partridge  Family 

conversation  with  the  dog  clean  and  crisply  short 
—  he  will  then  better  grasp  your  meaning.  A 
loud-voiced,  foul-mouthed  man  is  unfit  company 
for  a  true  sportsman. 

In  the  event  of  a  bird  being  winged,  and  what 
is  termed  "a  runner,"  keep  the  dog  firmly  in 
hand,  unless  he  has  already  been  ordered  to 
retrieve.  In  that  event,  of  course,  he  should  be 
allowed  to  do  his  best  to  carry  out  the  original 
order.  Too  much  chasing  of  runners  is  bad  for 
most  dogs ;  in  a  majority  of  cases  it  probably 
would  be  better  to  lose  the  bird  than  to  rattle  the 
dog  by  a  scuffling  pursuit.  Especially  is  this 
true  of  young  dogs,  for  in  their  excitement  over 
perhaps  a  flying  catch,  they  are  apt  to  develop 
an  undesirable  hardness  of  mouth.  Old,  wise 
fellows  may  safely  be  allowed  considerably  more 
liberty.  Above  all,  let  the  man  control  himself. 
The  sight  of  a  joint  pursuit  by  a  team  composed 
of  a  maniac  and  a  temporarily  rabid  animal  is, 
to  say  the  least,  somewhat  depressing.  Another 
and  a  most  important  matter  following  the  first 
flushing  of  the  bevy  is  "  marking  down,"  i.e. 
keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  birds,  and  carefully 
noting  just  where  they  pitch.  Attention  to  this 
is  most  valuable,  not  alone  in  the  saving  of  time, 
but  as  a  preventative  against  uselessly  working  a 
dog  over  ground  far  from  the  hidden  quarry. 
Some  men  become  masters  of  marking.  They 


The  Quail  47 

shoot  with  both  eyes  wide  open,  which  is  much 
the  better  way,  because  they  can  keep  track  of 
the  movements  of  more  birds  than  the  one  aimed 
at.  Such  men  see  everything  there  is  to  be 
seen ;  they  can  distinguish  cocks  from  hens  in 
full  flight ;  their  field  of  vision  is  broader  and 
truer  than  can  possibly  be  commanded  by  the 
man  who  closes  one  eye ;  in  consequence,  they  are 
apt  to  be  consistent  performers  and  most  useful 
and  entertaining  companions.  They  are  the  men 
who  while  shooting  well  can  always  tell  you 
where  your  bird  fell  or  if  you  killed,  when  you 
are  in  doubt.  They  know  just  where  the  birds 
have  pitched,  where  the  stragglers,  if  any,  have 
gone,  and,  in  fact,  all  about  everything  worth 
knowing.  It  is  a  wise  plan  to  shoot  cocks  in 
preference  to  hens  whenever  the  choice  rests  with 
the  gun,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  old  hen 
referred  to.  In  the  case  of  crossing  birds,  the 
distinction  is  easy  enough,  and  the  intentional 
sparing  of  a  hen  now  and  then  really  is  some- 
thing akin  to  a  good  investment.  As  a  general 
rule,  there  are  more  cocks  than  hens  in  a  bevy, 
and  the  killing-off  of  the  cocks  is  apt  to  be 
followed  by  a  more  peaceful,  hence  more  pro- 
ductive, breeding  season.  When  a  hen  goes 
whirring  away  by  herself,  as  frequently  happens, 
and  pitches  at  a  point  a  safe  distance  from  where 
the  main  flight  has  gone,  she  should  not  be  fol- 


48  The  Partridge  Family 

lowed.  A  little  of  this  wise  forbearance  now  and 
then  will  do  much  to  keep  up  the  stock  of  game. 

It  was  once  the  writer's  fortune  to  enjoy  a 
month's  outing  with  one  of  those  royal  good 
fellows,  a  British  sportsman-soldier  of  the  genu- 
ine stripe  —  a  high-bred,  accomplished,  game 
man,  who  has  since  proved  his  heroism  to  the 
reading  world.  He  had  shot  in  most  corners 
of  creation,  but  he  wanted  to  learn  about  quail. 
One  day  things  were  unsatisfactory,  as  they 
sometimes  will  be,  and  a  hard  morning's  work 
had  accomplished  nothing.  At  last  the  dog  pulled 
up  in  grand  style  on  my  side  of  the  beat.  In 
reply  to  a  hail,  the  captain  signalled  to  go  on 
and  flush.  There  were  but  two  birds,  both  hens, 
and  they  were  allowed  to  depart  in  peace. 

"  What  was  the  matter,  old  chap  ? "  he  asked. 
"You  should  have  stopped  that  brace." 

"  Seed  hens,"  was  the  reply. 

"  S-e-e-d  h-e-n-s !  Why,  what  the  devil  are 
seed  hens?  "  was  his  amazed  query. 

The  mystery  was  explained,  and  from  his  ex- 
perience with  pheasants  he  had  learned  to  appre- 
ciate that  sort  of  thing,  but  the  term  "  seed  hens  " 
greatly  amused  him.  Every  now  and  then  he'd 
mutter  the  words  over,  and  his  mighty  shoulders 
would  shake  with  mirth.  Later  in  the  day  there 
was  lively  sport  and  a  hot,  impromptu  race,  for 
both  guns  were  at  their  best.  At  last  a  brief 


The  Quail  49 

halt  was  called  for  a  bite,  after  which  he  pulled 
out  nearly  a  score  of  fine  birds  for  inspection. 
He  was  as  happy  as  a  big,  care-free  boy,  for  he 
had  shot  in  perfect  form,  and  was  delighted  with 
his  new  game ;  but  suddenly  his  merry  comments 
ceased,  and  his  face  crimsoned.  He  had  just 
noticed  the  brown  throats  of  half  his  prizes,  and 
a  horrible  thought  troubled  him. 

"Great  h-e-a-v-e-n-s ! "  he  gasped,  "I've  been 
shooting  hens  —  s-e-e-d  h-e-n-s!" 

He  looked  as  though  he  wished  the  earth 
would  open  and  take  him  in,  but  fortunately  the 
remedy  was  at  hand.  A  quick  showing  of  the 
other  bag,  which  contained  a  fair  proportion  of 
both  sexes,  reassured  him  ;  but,  as  he  expressed  it, 
he  had  had  "  a  bad  turn."  When  the  outing  was 
done,  he  went  back  to  his  regiment,  and  was  in 
all  probability  the  best  quail  shot  on  the  roll. 
Years  passed,  and  his  regiment,  with  many  an- 
other, was  in  the  field.  A  town  full  of  women 
and  children  was  besieged  and  in  desperate  straits. 
There  was  a  forced  march  to  the  rescue.  Later 
to  the  writer  came  a  letter  addressed  in  a  perfectly 
villanous  scrawl.  The  writing  inside  was  worse, 
and  it  ran — "Dear  old  Chap  —  Pardon  left 
maulie  —  I  lost  the  other  and  a  lot  of  the  arm. 
Must  practise  one-handed.  But  we  saved  the 
s-e-e-d  h-e-n-s!"  He  had  not  forgotten  during 
all  those  years.  What  the  women  he  so  gallantly 


50  The  Partridge  Family 

rescued  might  think  of  that  note  doesn't  matter. 
The  young  sportsman  who  aspires  to  become 
a  crack  quail  shot  should  pay  heed  to  the  rally- 
ing call,  and  learn  to  imitate  it  to  perfection. 
Any  one  possessed  of  an  ear  can  easily  master 
it.  For  short  distances,  whistling  through  the 
lips  alone  will  admirably  serve ;  but  for  long-range 
calling  the  writer  inserts  the  tips  of  thumb  and 
finger  between  his  lips  and  produces  a  sound 
which  may  be  distinctly  heard  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  or  more.  There  need  be  no  fear  of  calling 
too  loudly,  provided  it  be  correctly  done.  A 
quail  close  at  hand  raises  an  astonishing  row. 
After  the  first  flush,  the  birds  generally  speed  to 
their  favorite  cover ;  and  once  within  its  shelter,  if 
the  day  be  fair,  they  will  lie  like  stones.  As  a 
usual  thing,  the  cover  of  the  North  consists  oi 
one  of  the  following:  a  bit  of  wood;  a  thicket 
of  tall,  slim  saplings  ;  a  field  of  standing  corn ;  a 
patch  of  briers  ;  a  fence  overgrown  with  vines 
and  tangled  stuff;  a  big  slashing,  with  fallen 
trunks  and  stumps  and  piles  of  brush  here,  there, 
and  everywhere;  a  large,  dry  ditch  with  overhang- 
ing grass  at  the  sides  and  a  thick,  short  growth 
of  weeds  at  the  bottom ;  a  "  dirty "  field,  i.e.  one 
wild  with  burrs,  thistles,  etc.,  waist-high;  the 
brushy  banks  of  a  stream;  a  bit  of  almost  dried 
marsh,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  broad,  frequently 
briery  ditches  either  side  of  a  railroad  track. 


The  Quail  51 

Here  is,  indeed,  an  infinite  variety,  and  the  man 
who  can  score  fairly  well  in  all  of  it  is  to  be 
envied. 

Now  the  working  of  it :  the  first  thing  is  to 
take  a  smoke,  a  pleasant  way  of  allowing  time 
for  the  scent  to  become  good.  If  the  birds  have 
taken  to  the  woods,  but  have  not  treed,  they  will 
be  found  under  logs,  in  the  crannies  of  roots,  or 
among  the  leaves  on  the  ground.  Such  condi- 
tions frequently  mean  many  fair  chances,  but 
sometimes  in  a  baffling  light.  The  method  of 
beating  should  be  the  same  as  in  the  open,  with 
the  exception  that  the  dog  may  be  made  to  work 
closer  with  advantage.  Not  infrequently  a  brace 
or  so  will  be  promptly  located,  but  there  will  be 
a  difficulty  in  finding  the  major  portion.  After 
a  fair  trial  has  failed,  call  in  the  dog,  go  back  near 
where  the  bevy  was  flushed,  and  begin  calling 
loudly.  The  old  hen  has  been  bagged,  and  you 
are  playing  her  role.  Do  not  call  too  much. 
Make  it  so  —  Ka-urt-Hee 7  Ka-i.oi'-kee  /  Ka-i.oi'- 
hee  !  —  three  times  (emphasize  second  syllable), 
and  occasionally  four,  and  with  the  proper  pause 
between.  Indistinct  and  too  hurried  calling 
sounds  like  a  young  bird,  which,  while  it  may 
elicit  a  response  from  some  impatient  youngster, 
lacks  the  magic  of  the  message  from  the  old  hen. 
If  this  oft-recurring  old  lady  has  not  been  already 
conveniently  killed,  she  may  presently  pipe  up 


52  The  Partridge  Family 

from  somewhere.  If  so,  get  after  and  exterminate 
her  as  promptly  as  may  be,  for  the  craftiest  of 
imitators  cannot  compete  with  the  real  thing. 
The  reason  why  she  must  now  be  killed  is  because 
otherwise  she  will  gather  the  lot  around  her 
within  a  few  minutes,  whereupon  the  next  flush 
becomes  precisely  what  you  don't  want,  —  a  bevy 
flush,  —  and  most  likely  a  further  flight  into  what 
may  prove  most  troublesome  cover.  As  each 
bird  answers,  mark  its  place  by  the  sound,  then 
send  the  dog  about  his  business.  No  fear  now 
about  the  scent.  When  a  bird  calls,  it  has 
moved, — it  won't  call  from  its  hiding-place, — and 
once  it  has  moved  it  has  betrayed  itself  to  the 
dog.  The  rest  will  depend  upon  the  guns. 

Have  the  birds  gone  to  thicket  or  other  stuff 
too  tall  to  see  over  and  so  thick  as  to  render 
shooting  extremely  difficult  ?  Then  there  are  two 
ways  open.  One,  the  honest  man's  way,  is  to 
smash  boldly  in,  to  keep  the  agreed-upon  distance 
from  your  friend,  and  to  beat  squarely  through. 
This  means  a  rake  across  the  nose  every  now  and 
then  from  some  thorny  growth,  a  tripping  over 
briers,  an  occasional  difficult  shot,  and  a  little  — 
just  a  little  —  spicy  talk  when  a  bird  roars  up 
between  your  legs  and  whisks  away  where  you 
cannot  possibly  cover  it.  This  is  the  honest 
man's  way.  The  other  way,  the  —  well,  let  us 
call  it  the  experienced  man's  way  —  is  to  agree 


The  Quail  53 

upon  a  line,  to  crash  boldly  in,  to  noisily  progress 
for  a  few  yards,  or  until  you  reach  a  convenient 
opening,  and  then  to  sneak  up  on  to  a  stump  or 
log  from  which  you  can  command  a  fair  sweep 
all  about,  and  from  this  stronghold  to  plug  every 
quail  that  the  other  fellow  drives  within  range. 
You  are  up  in  the  air  a  bit,  but  you're  on  his 
right,  so  he  can't  shoot  you,  while  you  retain  the 
glorious  privilege  of  bagging  him  any  time  you 
care  to.  Does  he  anxiously  bawl  to  you,  after 
your  second  shot  betrays  the  fact  that  you  haven't 
stirred  a  peg  ?  What  do  you  care  ?  You  bawl 
back  that  you're  looking  for  a  bird  —  which  you 
are  —  aren't  you?  looking  for  every  bird  that 
gets  up. 

In  a  field  of  standing  corn,  the  experienced 
man  has  to  be  more  careful.  Shot  will  go 
through  a  lot  of  corn,  so  the  best  he  can  do 
is  first,  to  agree  upon  following  a  certain  space 
between  the  rows,  and  then  to  keep,  in  yachting 
parlance,  "  eating  to  windward  "  of  the  dog.  This 
will  give  him  cross  shots  of  his  stealing,  in  addi- 
tion to  straightaways  of  his  own  flushing,  and 
possibly  an  extra  cross  shot  from  his  comrade 
when  he  gets  on  to  the  game !  The  fair  way  is 
for  each  to  take  a  row  about  twenty  yards  apart 
and  to  stick  to  it  to  the  other  end  of  the  growth, 
then  take  new  rows  and  beat  back.  You  follow 
the  rows  because  it  is  easier  going,  and  the  view 


54  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

is  clearer.  Shoot  at  every  bird  you  see,  and  in 
emergency  just  ahead  of  where  a  bird  has  disap- 
peared. This  is  quick,  snappy  work,  but  corn 
won't  stop  shot,  and  the  expert  kills  bird  after 
bird  by  means  of  this  fascinating  guesswork.  It 
frequently  is  a  profitable  thing  to  hang  a  small 
bell  to  a  dog's  neck  for  work  in  tall  corn.  The 
birds  do  not  mind  the  bell,  the  sound  of  which 
tells  where  the  dog  is,  while  the  stopping  of  the 
tinkle  indicates  a  point.  Frequently  in  corn  and 
other  cover  you  find  the  dog  stanchly  pointing 
and  yourself  in  a  commanding  position,  the  par- 
ticular advantages  of  which  may  be  lost  by  a  single 
step  in  any  direction.  With  a  dog  that  does  not 
flush  to  order,  this  is  an  awkward  situation,  for 
the  bird  will  not  rise  unless  compelled  to.  It 
may  be  remedied  by  an  energetic  imitation  of  the 
"  Whir-r-r  "  of  a  rising  bird.  This  is  done  by  ex- 
pelling the  breath  so  as  to  cause  the  tongue  to 
flutter  rapidly.  The  sound  produced  will  very 
frequently  start  the  birds  within  hearing  of  it,  and 
the  wrinkle  is  worth  remembering. 

The  methods  of  good  shots  vary.  Many  make 
it  a  rule  to  stick  to  the  first  large  bevy  found, 
which  may  mean  an  entire  day's  shooting  within 
the  confines  of  a  single  farm.  The  writer  doesn't 
believe  in  such  tactics.  To  stick  to  one  or  two 
bevies,  and  to  patiently  and  laboriously  beat  them 
up  by  going  over  the  ground  again  and  again,  is 


The  Quail  55 

what  may  be  termed  too  narrow  a  system.  It 
gets  birds,  'tis  true,  but  the  mere  getting  of  birds 
is  only  a  minor  part  of  quail-shooting.  A  broader 
plan  is  to  outline  a  route  at  starting  which  will 
include  a  pleasant  section  of  country,  and  to 
endeavor  to  cover  it  all  before  the  light  fails. 
This  is  apt  to  involve  a  series  of  skirmishes  with 
perhaps  half  a  dozen  or  more  bevies,  and  truly 
this  is  the  best  of  quail-shooting.  The  man  who 
is  out  for  pure  sport  and  healthful,  vigorous  exer- 
cise need  not  fear  a  long  tramp.  The  policy  of 
here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  will  lead  him 
through  miles  of  pleasant  places,  will  give  him 
a  broader  knowledge  of  the  country,  and  will  keep 
him  from  that  crime  of  crimes  —  exterminating 
a  bevy.  The  man  who  hunts  too  closely  leaves 
desolation  in  his  wake.  It  is  of  him  the  farmer 
says,  — "  Some  feller  from  town  was  out  here 
'tother  day  an'  cleaned  'em  all  up  —  never  left 
one ! "  Such  a  man  is  not  a  sportsman  in  the 
true  sense  of  that  term.  The  reader  may  rest 
assured  that  the  man  who  kills  sparingly  is  wise. 

"  Who  kills  a  few,  then  tramps  away, 
Finds  welcome  true  another  day," 

is  a  bit  of  jingle  which  might  well  be  committed 
to  memory.  Apropos  of  this  point,  old  shooters 
know,  and  young  ones  must  learn,  that  the  farmer 
may  be  made  the  sportsman's  best  friend.  All  that 


56  The  Partridge  Family 

is  necessary  for  the  consummation  of  this  satisfac- 
tory relationship  is  the  exercise  of  ordinary  common 
sense  on  the  part  of  the  man  from  town.  Because  a 
man  may  happen  to  wear  rough  clothes,  and  to  be 
slow  and  quaint  of  speech,  are  no  signs  that  he  also 
is  a  fool.  In  point  of  fact,  he  usually  is  a  shrewder 
judge  of  human  nature  than  is  the  average  city  man ; 
and  the  young  "  town  feller  "  who  thinks  to  "  jolly  " 
him,  or  in  any  way  to  overreach  him,  is  liable  to 
fall  into  woful  error.  The  "  Rube  "  of  the  comic 
papers  is  a  very  far-fetched  individual.  The  city 
may  be  strange  to  him ;  but  in  the  country  he  is 
all  there,  and  in  his  own  quiet  way  is  frequently 
almost  sorry  for  the  greenness  of  his  friend  from 
town.  He  has  his  rights,  he  knows  what  they 
comprise,  and,  as  a  rule,  all  he  asks  of  a  stranger 
is  a  proper  observance  of  them.  This  point  he 
rightly  insists  upon. 

The  sportsman,  therefore,  being  a  gentleman, 
and  realizing  that  he  enters  upon  a  man's  land 
only  by  courtesy  of  the  owner,  will  not  forget  the 
proprieties.  He  will  carefully  replace  bars  should 
he  have  let  them  down,  he  will  close  all  gates  be- 
hind him,  he  will  keep  his  dog  under  proper  con- 
trol, and  allow  no  scaring  of  stock  or  poultry ; 
should  he  snap  a  fence-rail  in  crossing,  he  will 
promptly  repair  the  damage,  and  he  will  not  fire 
his  gun  where  either  the  report  or  the  charge  can 
cause  the  least  bit  of  trouble  or  damage.  If  he 


The  Quail  57 

be  at  all  in  doubt  about  his  being  welcome  on  a 
man's  place,  he  will  go  in  a  manly,  straightforward 
fashion  to  the  house,  and  ask  permission  to  shoot 
over  the  farm.  The  careful  observance  of  these 
little  matters  is  what  secures  that  valuable  fran- 
chise —  the  freedom  of  a  good  shooting  district. 
There  are  "  wrinkles  "  in  this  connection,  too.  A 
cheery  greeting  along  the  road  costs  nothing,  and 
greases  a  heap  of  gear.  A  small  bundle  of  maga- 
zines and  papers,  stale  to  you,  but  treasures  in  the 
back  country,  costs  only  a  trifle  of  trouble,  and 
will  be  appreciated,  never  fear ;  while  the  offer  of 
a  fair  share  of  the  bag  at  the  close  of  the  day  at 
once  stamps  the  maker  of  it  as  a  man  of  the 
proper  brand.  It  is  a  perfectly  safe  offer,  too,  for 
only  once  has  the  writer  known  it  to  be  smilingly 
accepted.  On  that  occasion  the  last  leg  of  the 
homeward  trip  was  by  canoe,  and  upon  disem- 
barking the  old  dog  kept  nosing  about  the  stern 
of  the  craft  as  though  something  good  lay  there. 
It  was  good  —  nay,  rich  !  for  it  proved  to  be  a 
bundle  which  contained  the  proffered  birds,  a  nice, 
red,  beautifully  polished  apple,  and  —  a  nursing- 
bottle,  full  of  the  sweetest  milk.  The  only  fault 
about  the  bottle  was  that  the  nose  was  plugged 
with  a  pellet  of  dough.  The  writer  hadn't  used  a 
nursing-bottle  for  forty  years,  but  he  had  delight- 
ful recollections.  So  he  squeezed  out  the  bit  of 
dough,  munched  the  apple,  and  drank  the  milk 


58  The  Partridge  Family 

(which  was  all  right),  according  to  his  youthful 
teaching.  Next  day  he  solemnly  returned  the 
bottle,  and  described  his  set-to  with  it.  A  pair  of 
very  bright  eyes  at  once  examined  the  rubber  tube, 
then  a  very  red  face  left  the  room.  The  old  farmer 
laughed  till  he  cried,  then  asked  his  wife,  "  D'ye 
believe  he  done  it  ?  "  whereupon  that  wise  old 
soul  wagged  her  gray  head  in  an  ecstasy  of  bliss, 
and  cackled  out:  "I'll  bet  he  done  it!  The 
joke's  on  darter !  O  dear !  O  dear !  " 

There  was  free  shooting  on  that  farm  ever 
after,  and  the  good-will  of  those  worthy  old  souls 
helped  to  secure  valuable  privileges  on  adjacent 
lands. 

The  surly  farmer  and  the  seldom-met,  downright 
mean  one  are  different  propositions,  yet  they  can 
be  manipulated.  Once  there  was  a  mean  farmer 
—  just  an  ornery  cuss  —  who  never  shot,  didn't 
love  birds,  but  was  just  mean  on  general  principles. 
There  was  a  big  thicket  at  the  back  of  his  place, 
and  it  was  full  of  quail,  and  late  in  the  fall  there 
were  woodcock  there  too.  In  the  nearest  town 
was  a  prosperous  grain  merchant ;  his  specialty 
was  barley,  and  his  influence  had  induced  a  few 
farmers,  including  the  mean  one,  to  forbid  shoot- 
ing on  their  lands,  that  he  might  reap  the  benefit. 
He  had  a  confidential  man  whose  business  it  was 
to  keep  tabs  on  the  barley  crop.  This  man  was 
about  the  country  a  good  deal,  and  he  slightly 


resen 


The  Quail  59 


resembled  the  writer.  He  couldn't  shoot  worth 
sour  apples,  but  he  occasionally  carried  a  gun. 
One  day  he  tried  to  borrow  the  writer's  favorite 
dog.  A  prompt  refusal  was  the  first  impulse ;  but 
a  brilliant  idea  prevented  what  would  have  been 
a  mistake.  The  dog  was  loaned ;  the  man  had 
about  an  hour's  featherless  shooting ;  but  when  he 
returned  he  was  enthusiastic  over  the  hosts  of 
birds  he  had  seen.  He  had  a  peculiar  pair  of 
extra  long  leggins,  and  these  the  writer  borrowed 
for  next  day,  partly  to  get  square  for  the  loan  of 
the  dog,  and  partly  to  help  out  a  nefarious  scheme. 
In  those  days  smokeless  powder  was  a  novelty; 
but  the  writer  had  seventy-five  shells  loaded  with 
it. 

When  I  started  afield,  conspicuous  leggins  and 
all,  and  with  the  identical  dog,  I  bore  no  slight 
resemblance  to  the  other  fellow.  The  farmer,  I 
knew,  would  be  working  in  a  certain  field,  so  I 
decided  to  give  him  a  friendly  hail  from  the  road, 
which  meant  a  pretty  safe  distance.  The  farmer 
shouted  back:  "Hello!  Back  agin,  hey?  —  all 
right !  "  Then,  indeed,  was  there  fast  footing  to 
that  thicket,  and  a  rapid  fire  action  of  the  hottest 
kind.  The  new  shells  were  discreetly  silent,  and 
the  chastened,  holy  joy  of  the  scheme  made  the 
gun  strangely  accurate. 

I  guessed  the  farmer  didn't  understand  the 
intricacies  of  a  modern  shooting  coat,  so,  with 


60  The  Partridge  Family 

twenty  birds  concealed  about  my  person,  as  it 
were,  and  with  a  brace  ostentatiously  held  by  the 
legs,  I  passed  out  within  plain  view.  In  response 
to  the  expected  hail  of,  "  Git  any  ?  "  I  held  up  the 
two,  and  then  smiled  resignedly  as  the  farmer 
roared  after  me:  "  Ye'd  best  put  more  stuff  in 
them  shells  o'  yourn.  Ye  was  lucky  to  git  airy 
one ! "  Later,  the  farmer  chaffed  the  grain  man 
about  his  poor  showing,  and  —  would  you  believe 
it  ?  —  that  grain  man  actually  had  the  nerve  to 
try  and  lie  out  of  it,  and  swore  he  had  never  gone 
back  for  a  second  trial.  It  is  possible,  too,  to  cir- 
cumvent an  overmean  farmer  by  quietly  beating 
his  ground,  and,  without  any  shooting,  driving  the 
birds  on  to  the  next  farm,  and  there  "  giving  them 
beans." 

It  has  been  whispered  that  some  men  have  a 
nasty  habit  of  calling,  gun  in  hand,  on  a  farmer, 
and  pretending  that  they  are  interested  in  the 
purchase  of  grain,  or  stock,  or  fruit  —  any  of  which 
is  to  be  delivered  later  on  to  some  well-known 
firm.  The  presence  of  the  gun  is  explained  in 
some  simple  way,  —  u  Am  no  hunter,  you  know, 
but  thought  I  might  see  a  hawk,  or  crow,  or 
squirrel,  or  mebbe  might  get  a  pretty  bird  for  the 
wife's  hat,"  and  so  on.  This,  occasionally,  draws 
the  coveted  invitation,  and  the  quail  catch  it.  It's 
no  bad  wrinkle,  for  it  is  a  simple  matter  to  make 
a  gauzy  arrangement  with  some  reputable  firm, 


Tbe  Quail  61 

that  will  gladly  purchase  farm  products  at  the 
regular  market  price.  When  the  average  farmer 
has  once  opened  his  heart,  he  is  your  friend,  and 
the  wise  sportsman  will  take  care  not  to  lose  him. 

To  return  to  the  field  proper.  A  couple  of 
useful  wrinkles  are  as  follows:  when  the  birds 
go  to  brush  heaps,  as  they  often  will,  and  the  dog 
has  pointed,  it  may  be  well  to  appear  stupid  and 
to  appeal  to  the  other  fellow  for  advice.  Some 
men  love  to  show  their  superior  knowledge,  and 
your  comrade  may  nibble  at  your  bait,  and 
promptly  illustrate  the  proper  method  of  getting 
a  bird  out  of  brush  —  which  is  by  jumping  on  the 
pile.  He  gets  the  bird  out  of  the  brush,  but  you 
get  the  shot  nine  times  out  of  ten. 

Have  the  birds  gone  to  a  long,  weedy,  vine- 
tangled  fence?  Tact  is  valuable  here.  The 
windward  side  is  the  choice  position,  because 
the  dog  will  go  to  leeward  of  the  cover,  and, 
naturally,  fully  three-fourths  of  the  birds  will  go  out 
the  other  side,  which  means  that  the  man  on  that 
side  will  get  the  cream  of  the  shooting.  You 
will  keep  this  point  in  mind  and  will  suffer  your 
comrade  to  reach  the  fence  first.  Nine  men  out 
of  ten  want  to  stick  close  to  the  dog,  so  when  he 
goes  over,  your  friend  is  almost  certain  to  follow. 
Of  course,  you  never  tell  him  to  go  that  side,  — 
that  would  be  unsportsmanlike,  —  but  there  is  a 
way  of  stopping  to  fiddle  with  a  leggin,  or  a  shoe- 


62  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

string,  when  he  is  most  impatient,  and  so  practi- 
cally force  him  over  in  advance.  Once  over,  he 
has  to  stay  there,  and  not  one  green  hand  in  one 
thousand  will  ever  reason  out  why  you  get  the  most 
shots.  In  beating  a  ditch,  especially  a  railroad 
ditch,  the  choice  place  is  in  the  middle  of  it ;  for 
the  cover  is  seldom  very  high,  and  the  nature  of 
the  ground  is  all  in  the  gun's  favor,  as  most  of  the 
birds  will  follow  the  ditch  and  afford  the  fair- 
est of  chances.  When  the  banks  are  high,  one 
man  must  keep  up  where  he  can  see  all  about,  and 
mark  down  lost  birds.  The  experienced  man 
usually  sees  that  the  other  fellow  has  this  task. 

Old  hands  know  all  about  these  fine  points, 
and  they  are  merely  referred  to  here  for  the  bene- 
fit of  a  novice,  who,  if  he  be  wise,  will  bear  them 
all  in  mind.  Perhaps  my  present  attitude  some- 
what resembles  the  tactics  of  the  card-sharper, 
who  goes  about  exposing  the  tricks  of  gamblers, 
yet  the  motive  is  good.  Needless  to  say,  by  far 
the  better  way,  in  fact  the  only  sportsmanlike 
way,  is  to  insist  upon  a  fair  and  square  sharing 
of  all  hard  work,  rough  beats,  and  choice  posi- 
tions. It  is  no  credit  to  anybody  to  get  the  better 
of  a  game  in  which  a  raw  'un  is  pitted  against 
a  master  hand.  True  sportsmanship  prefers  a 
difficult  problem,  and  there  is  ever  more  satisfac- 
tion in  winning  against  the  odds  than  with  them. 
Sharp  practice  is  the  deadly  foe  to  sport;  yet 


The  Quail  63 

it  is  astonishing  how  far  some  men  will  go  in 
their  eagerness  to  make  the  heaviest  bag. 

An  instance  of  this  may  be  referred  to.  A 
certain,  or  rather  a  very  uncertain,  man  of  great 
ability  and  high  social  position  once  invited  the 
writer  to  join  him  for  a  day's  quail-shooting.  He 
furnished  the  trap,  dog,  and  lunch,  and  during 
the  drive  out  and  three-fourths  of  the  shooting 
he  was  as  pleasant  a  host  as  man  could  desire. 
The  sport  proved  excellent  and  by  mid-afternoon 
the  bag  was  a  heavy  one,  the  writer  having  two 
or  three  birds  the  better  of  it.  In  following  the 
game  a  series  of  thickets  was  entered,  a  peculiar- 
ity of  the  growth  being  that,  while  very  dense 
and  baffling  from  about  waist-high  upward,  it 
was  comparatively  open  below,  as  though  the  spot 
had  been  at  one  time  under  water. 

While  the  guns  were  some  distance  apart,  an 
unexpected  grouse  roared  up  directly  in  front  of 
the  writer.  The  shot  was  an  extremely  difficult 
one,  —  a  guess  through  the  leaves,  —  yet  there 
was  that  peculiar  feeling  which  tells  a  man  when 
he  is  exactly  right.  It  was  followed  by  a  distant 
thump  on  the  ground  and  a  somewhat  prolonged 
buzzing  of  wings.  This  induced  the  writer  to 
squat  down  and  peer  away  through  an  opening 
below  the  roof-like  cover.  He  saw  the  wings  of 
the  grouse  as  it  struggled,  and  in  a  moment  a 
boot  followed  by  a  hand  came  into  view.  The 


64  The  Partridge  Family 

hand  picked  up  the  bird,  and  a  moment  later  a 
shot  rang  out,  followed  by  a  cry  of,  "  I  got  him ! " 
It  was  a  startling  revelation,  for  there  was  no 
mistaking  act  or  motive.  Nothing  was  said  on 
either  side,  but  one  brain  did  a  deal  of  thinking. 
At  the  end  of  what  otherwise  would  have  been  a 
perfect  day,  the  sole  retort  was  the  presentation 
of  the  entire  bag  with  the  remark,  "  You  value 
them  more  than  most  men,  and  no  doubt  can  find 
plenty  of  use  for  them."  That  ended  the  matter, 
but  never  again  did  the  man  propose  a  joint  de- 
bate of  the  game  question.  He  must  have  guessed, 
for  he  couldn't  see.  The  chances  are  that  he 
later  thought  that  one  grouse  rather  a  high-priced 
fowl.  It  was  a  mighty  fine  bird,  too ! 

NEAR  THE  END  OF  THE  SEASON 

This  is  the  time  beloved  of  the  skilled  and 
vigorous  quail-shooter.  The  birds  are  at  their 
best  —  strong,  full-feathered,  and  educated  in  the 
hard  school  of  experience.  They  go  to  cover 
like  so  many  cannon-balls,  to  be  stopped  only  by 
the  man  whose  eyes  and  hands  work  in  the  most 
perfect  unison.  There  is  a  tang  to  the  air  which 
makes  a  fellow  feel  like  stepping  off  five  miles  an 
hour,  while  a  dog  can  work  hard  all  day  and  keep 
his  tongue  in  his  mouth.  Scent,  as  a  rule,  is  of 
the  best;  the  leaves  are  down,  so  that  what  a 
month  before  was  baffling  cover  is  now  only  suf- 


The  Quail  65 

ficiently  difficult  to  thoroughly  test  one's  skill. 
The  sole  fault  of  the  season  is  that  days  are  short 
—  all  too  short,  when  men  and  dogs  are  full  of 
"  ginger  "  and  "  go." 

At  the  first  flush,  birds  may  be  trusted  to  whizz 
away  to  the  worst  cover  in  the  neighborhood,  for 
they  have  settled  upon  their  winter  quarters  — 
the  best  shelter,  hence  the  hardest  cover  to  shoot 
in.  But  what  of  that  ?  A  clean  kill  now  is 
more  gratifying  than  were  three  of  the  easier 
time,  and  the  birds  are  apt  to  lie  very  close  after 
being  scattered.  Every  now  and  then  there  comes 
a  clear,  still,  warm  day,  when  woods  and  thicket 
are  flooded  with  light.  This  is  the  day  of  days. 
The  magic  of  it  makes  a  fellow  feel  like  sparring 
a  few  rounds,  running  a  race,  mixing  in  a  promis- 
cuous scuffle,  or  just  yelling  in  sheer  exuberance 
of  animal  spirits.  If  after  a  two  or  three  mile 
sharp  walk  as  a  pipe-opener  he  doesn't  shoot  in 
his  best  form,  —  and  he'll  have  need  to,  —  he'd 
best  get  him  to  a  hennery,  for  domesticity  is 
what  he  needs. 

The  gun  must  be  swung  farther  ahead  now, 
and  woe  unto  the  man  who  stops  that  smooth 
swing  as  he  presses  the  trigger.  It  is  better  to 
be  too  far  ahead  than  one  inch  too  far  back.  A 
single  pellet  forward  of  the  wings  may  prove  a 
clean  kill,  while  a  number  of  pellets  too  far  back 
may  result  in  a  lost  bird  left  to  die  miserably. 


66  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

So  heave  ahead,  my  hearties,  a  good  foot  or  more, 
according  to  distance,  for  round,  humming  wings 
are  wondrous  strong  these  braw,  clear  days.  And 
forget  not  the  calling.  Allow  them  a  bit  more 
time  than  sufficed  for  the  youngsters,  and  they 
will  respond,  as  in  salad  days. 

Is  the  air  deathly  still  and  gray  with  the  com- 
ing snow  ?  Then  your  work  is  cut  out  for  you. 
They  know,  as  do  all  wild  things,  when  the  white 
wolf  of  the  North  is  running  a  trail  to  the  south- 
ward. Though  they  be  of  that  season's  hatch, 
they  instinctively  feel  the  coming  change,  and 
they  huddle  close  where  the  strange,  cold,  white 
feathers  shall  not  touch  them.  Then  the  dog  of 
the  magic  nose  and  the  developed  brain  is  the 
chap  to  find  them.  There  will  be  practically  no 
foot-scent.  He  must  catch  it  in  the  air  and  draw 
straight  and  truly;  so  when  you  see  his  grand 
head  rising  higher  and  higher,  and  the  sensitive 
nose  apparently  reaching  and  feeling  for  some- 
thing, clear  for  action,  there  will  be  music  in  a 
minute. 

After  the  snow  has  come  the  cover  appears  to 
open  and  dwindle  like  magic.  One  can  see 
almost  anywhere,  and  the  problem  is  now  sim- 
plified to  a  straight  argument  of  skill  versus 
speed.  The  birds  now  hang  about  thickets, 
brush  heaps,  and  what  rank  weeds  may  be  left 
standing,  and  they  are  apt  to  cling  to  the  rail- 


The  Quail  67 

roads,  where  they  are  sure  of  gravel  and  apt  to 
find  grain  which  has  fallen  from  passing  cars.  It 
may  be  well,  too,  if  close  attention  be  paid  to 
fields  where  the  corn  has  been  left  in  shocks. 
Every  bird  in  the  neighborhood  will  know  all 
about  that  corn. 

After  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  followed  by  high 
winds,  there  are  sure  to  be  big  drifts  about  the 
fences.  Sometimes  flushed  birds  will  make  for 
a  drift  which  covers  some  favorite  spot,  and  will 
dart  head  foremost  into  the  snow.  This  is  a 
common  trick  with  ptarmigan  and  ruffed  grouse ; 
but  the  writer  does  not  recall  having  seen  it  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  quail.  That  they  will 
so  dive  into  snow  is  a  fact,  and  a  trick  which 
frequently  baffles  the  best  of  dogs.  Therefore, 
when  a  bird  has  been  truly  marked  down  at  a 
drift,  and  the  dog  fails  to  locate  it,  carefully  scan 
the  snow,  and  possibly  a  small,  round  hole  may 
be  there  to  explain  the  seeming  mystery.  The 
writer  has  found  those  holes,  cleanly  cut  and 
without  a  single  mark  to  betray  the  makers  of 
them,  and  'he  has  inserted  a  hand,  and  either 
caught  or  scared  the  seven  senses  out  of  a 
warm,  feathery  thing,  which  gave  a  sudden  con- 
vulsive start,  then  burst  through  the  snow  roof 
like  a  miniature  torpedo. 

During  snow  time  it  is  possible  to  have  sport 
without  the  aid  of  a  dog.  The  writer  has  en- 


68  The  Partridge  Family 

joyed  it  many  a  time,  when,  for  some  reason,  a 
dog  was  not  available.  Indeed,  he  has  gone  so 
far  as  to  purposely  leave  the  dog  at  home.  To 
the  man  who  loves  the  woods  there  is  a  peculiar 
charm  about  this  still  hunting,  for  such  it  truly 
is.  The  warm  moccasins  make  not  a  sound, 
while  one  bends  to  his  reading  of  the  great  white 
page  —  the  register  of  Nature's  snug  hostelry. 

The  little  people,  furred  and  feathered,  write 
firmly  and  plainly.  They  do  not  understand  the 
joys  of  late  hours,  tobacco,  and  hard  liquor,  so 
the  signature  of  each  is  beautifully  distinct,  and 
anything  else  that  may  be  added  is  unquestion- 
ably true  —  evidently  they  are  ignorant  of  a  num- 
ber of  popular  professions,  notably  journalism. 
There,  then,  is  the  record  for  the  still  hunter  to 
read. 

To  find  the  trim  footprints  of  a  bevy,  to  read 
their  age  at  a  glance,  and,  when  the  sign  warrants, 
to  steal  after  them  upon  silent  feet  as  the  lynx 
steals  upon  the  northern  hare,  is  no  bad  fun. 
There  is  a  tenseness  about  the  situation,  as  one 
approaches  a  probable  flush,  which,  •  to  say  the 
least,  is  exhilarating.  It  is  strange  how  the 
hands  will  grip  the  gun,  and  how  the  breath 
will  check,  should  a  dry  leaf  rustle,  or  a  harm- 
less handful  of  snow  fall  with  a  muffled  "prup." 
A  glance  of  reddish  brown  where  an  unsuspected 
squirrel  darts  across  an  opening,  will  make  the  gun 


THE   NATIONAL   GAME-BIRD 
(Bob-white) 


The  Quail  69 

fairly  leap  to  shoulder.  And  then  —  at  last  — 
most  likely  when  you  are  a-straddle  of  a  snowy  log, 
or  cautiously  raising  the  rear  foot  —  "  Burr-r-r !  " 
Did  you  get  one?  Then  indeed  you  are  a 
good  'un !  What !  Two,  did  you  say  ?  Then 
MASTER  —  see  !  —  I  grovel  at  thy  feet  —  snow  and 
all !  Thy  humble  servant  will  meekly  follow  ten 
paces  to  the  rear,  for  thou  art  indeed  "that 
wizard  of  woodlands,  foreknowing  their  deep- 
hidden  secrets,"  of  whom  the  poet  sang. 

THE    ENEMIES    OF   THE    QUAIL 

Next  to  man,  the  deadliest  foes  of  the  quail 
are,  —  crusted  snow,  extreme  cold,  hawks,  and 
domestic  cats,  which  have  taken  to  foraging  in 
the  covers.  There  are  other  destroyers,  such  as 
foxes  and  owls ;  but  careful  observation  has  failed 
to  prove  very  serious  charges  against  them,  the 
chief  destroyers  unquestionably  being  the  four 
first  mentioned.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  rav- 
ages by  crust  and  cold  cannot  well  be  prevented. 
The  quail's  habit  of  huddling  under  brush  piles 
and  other  shelter  leaves  it  peculiarly  liable  to  be 
snowed  under,  which,  with  certain  weather  con- 
ditions, may  mean  the  destruction  of  nine-tenths 
of  the  birds  in  a  given  district.  The  worst  pos- 
sible thing  for  a  quail  country  is  an  unusually 
heavy  snow  late  in  the  winter,  followed  by  a  mix- 
ture of  rain  and  sleet,  suddenly  changing  to  bitter 


70  The  Partridge  Family 

cold.  This  is  not  infrequent,  and  the  first  sign 
of  it  is  enough  to  give  a  sportsman  a  dose  of  the 
dismals.  The  birds  know  when  the  snow  is 
coming  and  they  creep  under  the  brush,  intend- 
ing to  remain  there  until  the  weather  has  cleared. 
They  know  nothing  about  the  peril,  as  they 
calmly  submit  to  being  covered  by  a  foot  or  more 
of  snow,  which  for  the  time  only  helps  to  make 
the  quarters  more  comfortable.  Then  the  rain 
comes  and  wets  the  surface  all  about,  then  the 
sleet  stiffens  it,  and  by  its  drumming  warns  the 
birds  below  not  to  stir  for  a  while ;  lastly,  the  wind 
suddenly  shifts  to  the  north,  the  cold  becomes 
intense,  and  every  foot  of  damp  snow  promptly 
hardens  into  solid  ice,  perhaps  capable  of  sus- 
taining a  man's  weight.  The  quail  are  now  im- 
prisoned beneath  a  dome  of  crystal,  which  may 
endure  for  days.  If  it  does,  the  mournful  sports- 
man scouting  after  the  snow  has  gone  overturns  a 
heap  and  finds  —  that  which  makes  him  curse  the 
elements  thoroughly  and  bitterly,  for  right  well  he 
knows  how  long  it  may  take  to  repair  the  damage. 
The  quail  which  actually  are  frozen,  victims  of 
extreme  cold  alone,  are  comparatively  few.  So 
long  as  they  can  obtain  a  proper  amount  of  food, 
they  are  very  hardy.  "  A  quail  with  a  full  crop 
never  freezes,"  is  an  old  saying  with  a  deal  of 
truth  in  it.  The  last  severe  spell  of  a  winter  is  apt 
to  be  the  most  deadly,  because  then  the  birds  are 


The  Quail  71 

sure  to  be  in  more  or  less  poor  condition.  By 
that  time  the  various  growths  have  been  closely 
gleaned,  what  little  food  there  may  be  being 
frosted  and  deprived  of  most  of  its  nourishing 
quality.  If  the  winter  prove  unusually  severe,  with 
much  deep  snow,  food  should  be  placed  where 
the  birds  can  get  it  without  having  to  go  too  far 
from  their  favorite  shelter.  Corn,  wheat,  and 
buckwheat  are  the  best  foods,  and  a  few  bushels 
of  one  or  other  of  these,  placed  behind  some  form 
of  shelter  where,  as  the  tracks  indicate,  the  quail 
frequent,  will  do  much  to  help  birds  through  that 
trying  period  near  the  end  of  the  winter.  The 
trouble  of  attending  to  this  will  be  richly  repaid, 
for  it  must  be  remembered  that  a  very  few  pairs 
of  birds  will  stock  a  large  farm  to  its  full  capacity. 
Two  destroyers  which  have  attained  an  unen- 
viable reputation  are  Cooper's  hawk  (Accipiter 
cooperi),  and  the  sharp-shinned  hawk  (A.  velox). 
These  two  are  about  the  only  hawks  which  do 
serious  damage.  The  proper  justice  for  them 
weighs  about  an  ounce  and  one-eighth,  and  should 
be  administered  at  every  opportunity.  When 
birds  are  regularly  fed,  one  or  other  of  these 
rascals  is  almost  certain  to  find  it  out  and  hang 
about  the  nearest  cover.  For  this  reason  it  is  a 
good  plan  to  carry  a  gun  and  a  few  heavily  loaded 
shells  whenever  one  goes  to  put  out  more  food  or 
to  learn  how  the  quail  are  faring. 


72  The  Partridge  Family 

When  a  cat  takes  to  ranging  the  covers,  it  soon 
becomes  a  persistent  destroyer,  the  habits  of  quail 
making  them  easy  prey.  An  excellent  course  is 
to  shoot  every  cat  found  beyond  its  proper  range 
of  the  barnyard  and  the  garden.  It  may  be  as 
well  to  carefully  conceal  the  bodies,  for  many 
folk  who  own  cats  do  not  realize  what  bad  brutes 
their  pets  may  be ;  and  besides,  as  we  all  know, 
"  What  the  eyes  don't  see,  the  heart  don't  sorrow 
for,"  as  it  is  popularly  expressed.  Foxes,  great 
horned  owls,  and  other  foes  need  not  be  dwelt 
upon,  for  farmers  and  sportsmen  alike  will  shoot 
them  at  every  opportunity. 

Protectors,  however,  should  not  fall  into  error 
where  some  of  the  birds  of  prey  are  concerned. 
The  marsh-hawk,  the  long-winged  fellow  with  the 
white  patch  on  his  rump,  seen  tacking  over 
marshes,  does  more  good  than  harm,  as  his  fa- 
vorite prey  is  the  destructive  short-tailed  field- 
mouse.  The  red-tailed  hawk  will  pounce  upon 
fowls,  but  seldom  molests  game.  He  earns  a 
right  to  live  by  destroying  certain  mischief 
workers.  The  fine,  red-shouldered  hawk  chiefly 
confines  himself  to  a  diet  of  mice,  snakes,  and 
grasshoppers.  The  beautiful  little  sparrow-hawk, 
seen  poised  in  air,  or  perched  upon  a  telegraph 
pole  or  a  dead  stub,  feeds  upon  grasshoppers, 
crickets,  and  other  insects  during  warm  weather, 
while  in  winter  his  regular  diet  is  mice.  Need- 


The  Quail  73 

less  to  say,  he  should  not  be  killed  for  any  pur- 
pose. 

A   DAY    OVER    DOGS 

You've  seen  an  old  cart-horse  —  one  of  the  sort 
with  spavins,  and  splints,  and  grease-heel,  and  poll- 
evil,  and  a  few  little  things  like  that  —  released  in 
pasture  ?  You've  seen  his  ponderous  joy  as  he 
grasped  the  fact  that  for  a  time  at  least  he  was 
free  from  galling  straps ;  you've  seen  him  put  his 
tail  up  and  snort,  then  take  a  good,  grunty  old 
roll,  and  wind  up  with  a  stiff-jointed  trot  around 
and  a  few  extra  fool-capers  on  the  side  ?  Well,  I 
felt  just  that  way. 

All  one  night  I  had  whirled  westward,  sleeping 
like  a  winter  bear,  content  with  my  single  dream 
that  I  was  flying  farther  and  farther  from  the 
deep  city  canons  of  Gotham.  Then  a  black 
hand  pawed  at  me,  and  a  voice  said :  "  Git  up, 
Boss,  —  you  done  got  but  ten  minutes  !  " 

He  was  right,  as  porters  always  are,  and,  as  I 
hurried  through  dressing,  an  occasional  peep 
through  the  window  detected  thickets  and  bits  of 
woodland  which  were  strangely  familiar.  There 
were  the  old  grounds,  now,  so  the  letter  had  said, 
carrying  a  grand  crop  of  quail,  and  here  I  was 
almost  ready  and  almost  arrived.  A  few  minutes 
later,  that  best  of  fellows,  whom  I  shall  call 
"  Doc,"  was  leading  the  way  to  his  snug  resi- 
dence, and  telling  me  all  about  it.  The  dogs 


74  The  Partridge  Family 

were  in  fine  fettle,  everything  was  ready,  and  we 
would  shoot  the  following  day. 

Before  turning  in,  Doc  let  his  brace  of  setters 
into  the  house.  They  were  handsome,  medium- 
sized  bitches  of  Llewellyn-Laverack  blood,  black- 
and-white,  and  named  respectively  Madge  and 
Joss.  I  had  shot  over  Madge  a  few  days  the  pre- 
vious season,  and  we  were  curious  to  know  if  she 
would  remember  me.  The  brace  crouched  on  a 
rug,  and  we  sat  and  watched  them.  Presently 
Madge  became  restless  and  sniffed  a  few  times  in 
my  direction ;  then  she  crawled  to  me  and  rooted 
her  nose  under  my  hand,  while  her  tail  beat  a 
soft  tattoo  of  welcome.  "  By  George !  she  re- 
members you,"  exclaimed  Doc ;  and  as  I  looked 
into  her  eager,  pleading  brown  eyes,  I  knew  that 
she  did.  Those  eyes  were  talking  as  only  a  good 
dog's  eyes  can,  but  she  had  not  yet  heard  me 
speak.  Finally  I  patted  her  and  said,  "  Good  old 
Madgie."  In  an  instant  she  was  up  and  capering 
about  like  a  mad  thing,  which  performance  so 
affected  Joss  that  she  cut  a  few  capers  out  of 
sympathy.  They  made  such  a  row  that  we  had 
to  send  them  away. 

Doc  routed  me  out  at  six  o'clock  in  some  sort 
of  fog  which  he  termed  morning,  and  presently 
we  were  in  the  trap,  with  the  dogs  snuggled 
under  the  seat.  The  nag  was  a  stepper,  the  road 
was  good,  and  we  rattled  along  famously.  Farms, 


Tbe  Quail  75 

forest,  and  thickets  slipped  behind  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, each  recalling  some  red-letter  or  disappoint- 
ing experience,  for  we  had  shot  over  that  country 
for  years.  The  district  we  traversed  was  perhaps 
not  strictly  picturesque ;  yet  seen  in  the  early  sun- 
light it  seemed  to  me  to  be  positively  beautiful. 
Here  stretched  broad  fields  of  bleaching  corn  or 
stubble,  bordered  with  crimson  sumach,  and  backed 
by  smoky  thicket ;  next,  a  long  pasture,  deep 
green  with  late  fall  grass,  and  spangled  with 
scattered  points  of  color  where  the  painted 
leaves  had  settled ;  then  a  big  woodland  aflame 
with  the  crimson  and  gold  of  maples,  the 
purple  and  bronze  of  oaks,  and  yellows  of  nut 
trees. 

Nine  miles  from  the  starting-point  we  reached 
a  snug  farm-house.  A  boy  took  the  horse,  and  in 
brief  time  we  had  got  into  skeleton  coats,  put 
guns  together,  and  were  ready  for  business.  The 
farmer,  a  good,  ruddy-faced  old  soul,  too  old  for 
more  sport,  had  eyed  me  for  some  time  in  a 
doubtful  sort  of  way.  I  had  known  him  years 
before;  but  my  name  this  time  had  failed  to  rouse 
his  memory.  Just  for  fun  I  whistled,  "  Ka-loi-hee  ! 
ka-loi-hee  !  "  He  at  once  turned  and  said :  "  That's 
pretty  good.  I  knowed  a  chap  though  that  could 
beat  it.  Years  ago  he  used  to  hunt  round  here. 
He  was  a  regular  loafer  —  a  long,  lean,  slab-sided 
cuss,  always  a-foolin'  with  birds,  an'  no  good  fur 


7  6  The  Partridge  Family 

nothin'  but  shootin'.  But  he  could  call  quail. 
I've  seen  him  call  'em  right  to  him." 

"  What  came  of  him  ?  "  asked  Doc. 

"  I  reckon  he  died  about  ten  year  ago.  He  was 
a  consumptive,  anyhow,  and  no  good  on  earth," 
added  the  old  man ;  "  but  he  could  call  quail  bet- 
ter 'n  any  man  livin'." 

"  What  was  his  name  ? "  persisted  Doc. 

"Wa-al,  I  sorter  forget  his  actool  name,  but 
you  ought  to  know  it.  His  dad  was  parson  to 
the  brick  church  in  town,  nigh  on  to  fifty  year,  I 
reckon." 

Doc  was  choking  with  laughter  when  I  turned 
on  our  friend  and  said :  "  See  here,  you  old  snoozer, 
what  do  you  mean  by  calling  me  a  consumptive 
loafer  ?  I'll  take  a  fall  out  of  you  first  thing  you 
know!" 

He  boggled  his  eyes  and  gasped  like  a  freshly 
landed  bass ;  then  he  dived  for  me,  and  we  had 
fun.  "  Durn  you,"  he  said,  "  what  a  whalin'  big 
cuss  you've  growed.  But  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see 
you,  loafer  or  no  loafer,"  and  the  old  cock  laughed 
till  his  gills  turned  blue.  Before  we  got  away  he 
begged  us  to  see  his  neighbor.  He  said,  "  Why, 
we  were  talkin'  'bout  you  only  last  week,  when 
we  scart  up  some  birds,  and  if  you'll  only  fool  old 
Tom  like  you  fooled  me,  I'll  kill  a  fat  chicken 
agin  supper  time." 

The  cat  found  a  chicken's  head  in  the  yard 
that  afternoon. 


The  Quail  77 

The  first  field,  a  big  stubble,  held  no  birds,  but 
it  proved  the  superb  quality  of  the  dogs.  They 
went  off  at  the  word  and  beat  it  out  like  field- 
trial  winners,  working  independently,  quarter- 
ing beautifully,  and  maintaining  an  astonishing 
rate  of  speed.  Once  Madge  whirled  and  stopped 
for  a  second  on  a  lark ;  but  brief  as  her  halt  was, 
Joss  had  time  to  back  her  fifty  yards  away.  Doc's 
face  fairly  shone  as  he  grunted  at  me,  "Great 
team  —  eh?  "  They  were  good  beyond  question, 
and  the  second  field  showed  them  to  even  better 
advantage.  The  game  little  ladies  started  fast 
and  kept  warming  the  pace,  till  they  were  racing 
before  they  had  cut  out  half  their  ground.  To 
and  fro  they  swept  in  beautiful  long  tacks,  sailing 
along  with  smooth,  flawless  action,  which  hinted 
of  plenty  of  staying  power.  Heads  carried  high 
and  sterns  ceaselessly  whipping  flanks  gave  to 
their  work  that  style  and  finish  so  pleasing  to 
the  eye  of  a  sportsman.  No  order  was  given,  for 
none  was  required.  At  intervals  Doc  whistled 
sharply  to  turn  one  or  other ;  with  this  exception 
they  worked  as  their  bird  sense  prompted.  We 
followed  as  leisurely  as  their  speed  would  allow} 
and  we  did  not  have  to  walk  far. 

Madge's  white  nose  rose  higher  and  tested  the 
breeze  for  a  moment,  then  she  went  galloping 
dead  to  windward.  No  tacking,  no  ground-scent, 
no  roading:  just  a  rapid  run  up  the.  wind,  and 


7  8  The  Partridge  Family 

a  stop  so  sudden  that  in  one  bound  she  was  at 
speed,  and  at  its  finish  she  was  rigid. 

"  Oh,  you  little  beauty ! "  was  my  thought,  as 
Doc  tersely  inquired,  "How's  that? " 

From  the  boundary  fence  came  Joss,  cracking 
on  more  sail  every  stride,  for  a  fringe  of  weeds 
hid  Madge  from  her,  and  she  seemed  to  fear  she 
had  been  outfooted.  As  she  swung  around  the 
weeds,  her  eye  caught  the  white  banner  of  a  tail 
marking  her  rival's  position,  and  she  propped  so 
suddenly  that  she  almost  toppled  over.  Again 
Doc  queried,  "  How's  that  ? "  and  again  I  said 
nothing,  but  feasted  my  eyes  on  the  faultless  pic- 
ture they  made. 

We  watched  them  for  some  minutes,  and  I 
would  have  given  a  fat  price  for  the  scene  on 
canvas.  The  mass  of  glowing  foliage  in  the 
background,  the  smoky  distance,  the  deep  crim- 
son of  the  sumachs  against  the  grays  of  the  lich- 
ened  fence,  the  bronzy  briers  and  partly  faded 
small  growths  of  the  foreground,  and  the  two 
black-and-white  forms,  set  and  straining  with  con- 
trolled excitement  and  intensity  of  purpose,  might 
well  have  formed  an  illustration  of  the  best  there 
is  in  American  sport. 

"  Let's  flush,"  said  Doc,  and  we  moved  forward. 
Then  it  seemed  as  though  a  shell  exploded  in  the 
weeds,  and  a  storm  of  feathered  missiles  went 
whizzing  toward  the  wood.  The  two  guns 


The  Quail  79 

sounded  as  one ;  then  Doc's  second  barrel  rang 
out,  and  a  puff  of  feathers  told  that  his  hand  was 
in.  I  always  shoot  with  both  eyes  open,  and  the 
eye  that  had  not  been  too  intent  on  the  birds  had 
detected  a  swiftly  leaping  shape  which  darted 
into  the  grass.  Swinging  round,  I  held  low  and 
well  ahead  of  the  shaking  grass. 

"  What's  that  —  rabbit  ?  "  asked  Doc. 

"  What's  that "  answered  for  itself.  We  heard 
a  wrathful  sputtering,  like  a  man's  sweet,  low  talk 
when  he  unexpectedly  finds  something  hard  in 
a  dark  room,  and  then  a  voice  —  such  a  voice ! 
—  cried  unto  heaven,  "  Mee — yow-r-r — ow-r  / 
Mee-yow-r-r  !  " 

We  grinned  at  each  other  as  I  said,  "  Keep 
the  dogs  down  till  I  finish  that  devil."  It  was 
a  big,  hard-looking  Thomas,  and  the  number  nine 
had  raked  him  well  forward.  He  was  growling 
and  swearing  savagely,  and  he  made  a  bounce  at 
me.  Old  foot-ball  training  helped  there.  The 
right  boot  met  him  fairly,  and  he  sailed  over  a 
clump  of  bushes. 

"  Wonderful  what  a  trifle  of  '  number  nine  '  can 
do,"  sagely  remarked  Doc. 

"  Shot  or  boot  ?  "  I  retorted. 

"  Oh,  the  second  barrel,  by  all  means ;  you're 
deadliest  with  it ! "  snapped  Doc,  grinning  like  a 
fiend. 

The  dogs  soon  found  the  dead  birds  and,  after 


8o  The  Partridge  Family 

a  reasonable  wait,  we  followed  the  bevy  into  the 
cover. 

"  I  didn't  see  her,"  I  remarked ;  "  couldn't  make 
her  out.  Did  you  get  her  ?  " 

"  No,  both  cocks  here.  So  you  still  stick  to  the 
old  lady  theory?" 

"Certainly  I  do;  I'll  get  her  next  time,  but 
I'd  rather  had  her  now." 

The  ground  was  strewn  with  logs  and  small 
brush  piles,  and  Madge  and  Joss  promptly 
showed  that  they  knew  a  thing  or  two.  The 
dashing,  high-headed  work  of  the  open  changed 
to  a  fast  but  cautious  skirmishing  —  a  deadly 
method  in  such  ground. 

After  a  period  of  uncertain  progress,  Doc  asked, 
"  Where's  Joss  ?  "  Then  he  whistled  sharply,  but 
no  Joss  appeared.  We  knew  what  was  up,  and 
at  length  descried  a  white  point  above  a  distant 
log.  Madge  bore  off  toward  it,  but  before  reach- 
ing the  log  she  stiffened  into  a  showy  point  be- 
side a  lot  of  brush.  A  bird  flushed,  and  Doc 
killed,  Madge  still  holding  the  point.  A  kick 
at  the  brush  flushed  another,  which  fell  to  me. 
After  Madge  had  located  the  dead,  she  caught 
sight  of  her  mate,  and  promptly  backed. 

Moving  on  to  flush,  we  discovered  Joss  gamely 
proving  her  stanchness.  She  had  stopped  while 
in  the  act  of  drawing  across  a  big  log,  and  was 
standing  almost  on  her  head,  her  hind  feet  high 


The  Quail 


81 


upon  the  log.  In  spite  of  the  long  wait,  the  flush 
and  shooting  so  near  at  hand,  she  had  not  moved 
a  hair. 

There  was  fun  a-plenty.  We  ordered  Joss  on  ; 
but  the  instant  she  had  got  into  a  more  comforta- 
ble position,  she  set  herself  and  refused  to  budge. 
I  kicked  a  bit  of  brush,  and  right  from  under  my 
feet  went  a  bird.  Doc  stopped  it,  then  he  kicked 
the  brush  and  a  brace  whizzed  forth  —  one  of 
them  probably  is  whizzing  yet.  A  kick  at  a 
branch  sent  a  jaunty  wee  hen  whirring  to  a  medi- 
cated doom,  then  two  white-throats  boomed  away 
together,  and  I  made  a  clean  double. 

"  Confound  you  —  you  always  get  the  best  of 
it !  "  exclaimed  Doc.  His  voice  started  another, 
and  I  snapped  it  and  did  some  soulful  chuckling. 
But  the  joy  was  short-lived,  for  two  puffs  of  smoke 
floated  away,  and  Doc  put  in  another  shell.  We 
had  fired  so  nearly  together  that  neither  had 
heard  the  other's  gun. 

The  dogs  moved  about  a  bit,  but  soon  stiffened 
again,  evidently  on  more  birds  in  the  pile.  Kick- 
ing failed  to  start  them,  so  I  climbed  upon  the 
pile  and  set  it  all  swaying.  Then,  with  a  resound- 
ing whirr,  the  remainder  of  the  bevy  darted  out 
Doc  stopped  a  brace. 

This  ended  the  excitement,  so  a  halt  was  called 
for  lunch  and  a  pipe.  The  dogs  curled  up  together 
and  took  their  bread  in  turn.  The  tips  of  the 


82  The  Partridge  Family 

white  sterns  were  dyed  pink  from  whipping  rough 
brush,  and  dark  welts  along  silken  flanks  told  that 
it  had  not  been  all  fun.  We  examined  their  feet 
and  removed  every  burr  from  their  coats.  When 
the  word  was  given,  they  sprang  to  their  work  as 
though  they  had  not  run  a  yard  that  day. 

We  tramped  across  country  for  an  hour  before 
they  again  made  game,  but  they  never  slackened 
speed,  beating  every  field  as  prettily  as  the  first. 
Where  a  wheat-stubble  joined  a  sea  of  standing 
corn,  Madge  suddenly  halted.  Upon  our  turning 
to  see  Joss  back  from  the  open,  we  discovered 
that  amiable  lady  rapidly  reading  along  a  furrow. 
In  a  moment  she  too  halted,  and  there  were  two 
bevies,  or  one  dog  was  on  foot-scent.  Doc's  secret 
preference  showed  itself.  He  at  once  started  for 
Joss,  remarking,  "  They've  run  out  of  the  corn 
to  feed,  come  on !  " 

I  looked  at  Madge.  She  was  steady  as  a  rock, 
and  I  hated  to  slight  the  creature  that  had  carried 
a  memory  of  me  for  a  year.  I  walked  to  her, 
past  her,  turned  and  looked  at  her  and  said, 
"  Madgie,  old  girl,  you're  wrong  this  time,  I'm 
afraid."  The  stiffened  stern  waved  slightly,  the 
quivering  ears  dropped  a  trifle,  then  rose  again, 
and  the  grand  eyes  rolled  toward  me  with  an  ex- 
pression which  said  as  plainly  as  words :  "  If  I'm 
wrong,  I  don't  know  it ;  I'm  doing  my  best  to 
please  you."  I  turned  aside,  made  one  step  — 


The  Quail  83 

two  steps ;  then  something  grazed  a  leggin,  and 
she  stiffened  beside  my  foot.  I  reached  down  and 
patted  her.  To  the  hand  she  felt  hard  as  a  board, 
and  the  tense  muscles  twitched  curiously.  Once 
more  I  moved  ahead,  turned,  and  said,  "  Madgie, 
where  are  —  " 

"  Burr— r-r-r-urr !  " 

Not  a  bevy,  but  a  pack  of  about  forty  birds 
roared  up  ten  yards  away  and  started  for  the 
standing  corn.  I  rattled  in  both  barrels,  and 
three  birds  fell.  Like  an  echo  came  two  shots 
from  Doc,  followed  by  a  warning  cry.  I  hurried 
a  shell  into  the  right  barrel  and  turned  in  time 
for  a  chance  at  a  second  bevy  as  it  reached  the 
corn.  A  bird  fell,  and  I  saw  Doc  gather  a  brace. 

There  were  two  hours  of  daylight  left,  and  there 
were  sixty  or  more  quail  in  the  corn.  A  Joshua 
would  have  been  worth  ten  dollars  an  hour,  in 
advance.  The  stalks  towered  above  our  heads, 
and  the  ground  was  a  bit  too  clean  for  birds  to 
lie  very  close ;  but  the  sport  lost  no  spice  on  that 
account. 

Up  and  down  the  rows  we  tramped  abreast, 
getting  shots  every  few  minutes  and  missing  now 
and  then.  Often  we  could  not  see  the  birds 
when  they  rose,  but  many  a  beautiful  bit  of  dog 
work  and  brilliant  kill  rewarded  us.  The  birds 
were  scattered  all  over  the  place,  and  only  the 
approach  of  dusk  prevented  the  making  of  a  tre- 


84  The  Partridge  Family 

mendous  bag.  Shadows  stole  from  the  woods  and 
blurred  the  rows  of  corn  till  buzzing  wings  might 
sound  with  impunity  anywhere.  Doc  shouted, 
"  Want  to  go  through  once  more  ? "  I  yelled 
back,  "  Too  dark !  " 

How  we  suddenly  discovered  that  we  were  very 
weary ;  how  we  tramped  two  miles  too  far  trying 
to  locate  our  farmer  and  his  chicken ;  how  Madge 
jogged  contentedly  at  heel  while  Joss  persisted  in 
ranging  through  the  darkness;  how  we  finally 
gathered  in  the  chicken ;  how  we  almost  fell 
asleep  during  the  long  ride  home,  need  not  be 
dwelt  upon. 

Doc's  better  half  was  patiently  waiting.  She 
scanned  the  tired  faces  and  bulging  coats,  and 
knew  things  had  gone  well  that  day.  Before 
letting  the  dogs  go  to  feed,  she  dropped  on  her 
knees  between  them,  and  with  an  arm  about  the 
neck  of  each,  she  plumped  out  the  awful  question, 
"Which  do  you  think  is  the  best?"  I  was  in 
a  mighty  tight  place,  and  I  knew  it.  Fate,  how- 
ever, was  kind,  for  I  happened  to  notice  the  arm 
about  Madge  tightening  in  a  way  that  was,  to  say 
the  least,  suggestive.  To  be  candid,  my  chief  im- 
pression was  that  those  dogs  were  exceptionally 
fortunate  brutes ;  but  that  was  not  the  question. 
Risking  a  random  shot,  I  ventured,  "  Well,  if 
Doc  will  put  Madge  in  the  coming  field  trials,  I'll 
remain  to  see  that  running." 


The  Quail  85 

It  was  a  clean  kill.  With  proud  triumph  she 
informed  her  lord  and  master  that  I  was  the  best 
judge  of  dogs  that  had  ever  lived. 

Doc's  eyes  twinkled  mischievously  as  he 
drawled :  "  Won't  you  ever  learn  to  weigh  his 
words?  Joss  can  hang  her  —  and  he  knows  it." 

Doc  was  right. 

THE    FLORIDA  BOB-WHITE 
(C.  v.floridanus) 

This  bird  almost  might  be  termed  the  bantam 
of  the  common  Bob-white.  Scientific  authori- 
ties have  agreed  to  consider  it  a  separate  race ; 
but  to  the  eye  of  the  average  sportsman  it  is 
merely  an  undersized  individual  of  the  northern 
species.  The  important  differences  are  the 
smaller  size  and  the  darker  color  throughout. 
The  race  is  confined  to  Florida,  and  may  be 
found  upon  all  suitable  ground  within  the  bor- 
ders of  the  state.  Its  habits  differ  but  slightly, 
if  at  all,  from  those  of  C.  virginianus.  Its  favor- 
ite haunts  are  cultivated  grounds  bordered  by  the 
natural  cover.  The  mating  season  extends,  ac- 
cording to  locality,  from  about  the  end  of  Feb- 
ruary to  April.  The  nest  is  carefully  concealed, 
perhaps  under  a  palmetto,  or  in  rank  grass,  or 
weeds.  The  eggs  closely  resemble  those  of  the 
northern  bird,  but  the  average  number  is  consid- 
erably less,  it  being  usually  between  ten  and 


86  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

fifteen.  As  a  rule  two  broods  are  raised  in  a 
season.  The  principal  food  embraces  a  variety 
of  seeds  and  berries.  The  various  calls,  the  flight, 
habits  of  feeding  and  roosting  time,  are  identical 
with  those  of  C.  virginianus,  and  the  Florida  bird 
behaves  as  well  before  dogs  and  affords  as  good 
sport  as  the  other. 

As  many  Northerners  have  learned,  Florida 
Bob-white  shooting  is  not  what  it  used  to  be. 
The  game,  small  fellows  have  many  busy  foes, 
including  snakes  and  beasts  and  birds  of  prey. 
These  attack  old  and  young,  and  the  eggs ;  but 
the  worst  enemy  is  the  prowling  pot-hunter,  black 
and  white,  who  is  apt  to  also  be  a  trapper.  This 
kind  of  man  knows  no  mercy,  and  as  the  birds 
fall  easy  victims  to  the  simplest  form  of  snare 
and  traps,  great  numbers  are  annually  destroyed 
by  such  illegal  methods.  In  addition  to  these 
ravages,  there  is  a  vast  amount  of  shooting  done 
by  sportsmen  from  the  North,  who,  being  on  holi- 
day, naturally  keep  their  guns  as  busy  as  possi- 
ble. Better  enforced  game  laws,  and  a  persistent 
pursuit  of  all  law  breakers  and  the  natural  enemies 
of  Bob-white,  no  doubt  will  in  time  restore  the 
proper  head  of  birds.  More  than  once,  to  the 
writer's  personal  knowledge,  have  these  southern 
birds  been  brought  north,  to  restock  depleted 
covers.  Under  the  new  climatic  and  food  condi- 
tions the  type  is  speedily  lost,  and  it  is  to  be  pre- 


The  Quail  87 

sumed  the  strangers  mate  freely  with  native  birds. 
This  I  have  not  seen  proved  by  the  only  true 
test,  i.e.  breeding  in  confinement;  but  in  at  least 
two  instances  males  from  Florida,  which  were 
turned  loose  with  northern  bred  females,  appeared 
to  mate  and  breed  within  a  field  or  so  of  the  point 
of  liberation.  Unfortunately,  only  the  eye  could 
be  used  for  verification,  which  is  none  too  trust- 
worthy a  method ;  but  as  there  is  no  great  reason 
for  doubt,  the  eye  probably  was  correct. 

THE   TEXAN    BOB-WHITE 

(C.  v.  texanus) 

Only  a  trifle  smaller  than  C.  virginianus,  this 
race  is  distinguished  by  its  lighter  color,  and,  in 
the  majority  of  males,  by  a  tinge  of  cinnamon 
beneath  the  black  of  the  throat.  To  the  eye,  the 
entire  plumage  presents  a  somewhat  bleached 
appearance,  which  in  both  sexes  amounts  to  a 
decided  grayness.  The  female  has  a  fainter  cin- 
namon mark,  while  the  buff  of  throat  and  stripe 
has  a  faded  look,  quite  unlike  the  warmer  tone 
of  her  northern  sister.  The  other  trifling  varia- 
tions could  hardly  be  detected  by  unscientific  eyes 
except  by  a  careful  comparison  of  specimens  of 
the  two  races  side  by  side.  The  general  habits 
and  calls  of  this  rac£  are  the  same  as  those  of 
C.  virginianus ;  but,  possibly  owing  to  a  lack  of 
"  education,"  the  bird  is  tamer,  and  only  in  much 


88  The  Partridge  Family 

disturbed  districts  does  it  ever  show  any  of  the 
resourcefulness  frequently  so  puzzling  to  the  pur- 
suer of  the  Bob-white  of  the  North.  Its  range 
extends  over  western  and  southern  Texas,  and 
in  Mexico  from  Guadalajara  to  Tamaulipas  and 
Nuevo  Leon. 

It  is  a  common  bird  of  the  prairies  and  the  Rio 
Grande  valley,  but  it  is  seldom  if  ever  found  at 
a  greater  elevation  than  two  thousand  feet.  Its 
food  consists  of  grain,  the  seeds  of  grasses  and 
wild  growths,  berries,  and  insects.  When  flushed, 
it  speeds  away  to  the  thickest  available  cover, 
where  it  lies  very  close.  The  nest  in  the  majority 
of  cases  is  built  in  a  clump  of  close  growing  grass, 
and,  as  frequently  is  the  case  in  the  North,  it  is 
apt  to  be  domed  over  by  interwoven  herbage. 
The  number  of  eggs  laid  by  one  bird  varies  be- 
tween twelve  and  fifteen ;  when  a  greater  num- 
ber are  found,  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
two. hens  have  deposited  them.  In  all  sporting 
qualifications  this  bird  is  worthy  of  pursuit,  espe- 
cially in  a  region  where  there  has  been  a  fair 
amount  of  shooting. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  enemies,  human,  furred, 
and  feathered,  the  Texan  Bob-white  has  a  deadly 
foe  in  the  rattlesnake,  which  is  common  through- 
out its  haunts.  The  terrestrial  habit  of  the  game 
leaves  it  peculiarly  open  to  attack  by  the  coiled 
peril,  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  a  snake 


The  Quail  89 

showing  from  one  to  three  or  four  conspicuous 
swellings,  which  upon  cutting  the  destroyer  open 
prove  to  be  caused  by  dead  quail. 

THE    MASKED    BOB-WHITE 
(C.  ridgwayi) 

Adult  Male —  Head,  black  mixed  with  chestnut  on  top ;  occiput, 
nearly  all  chestnut ;  hind  neck,  chestnut  with  a  few  white  spots. 
Upper  part  of  back,  chestnut  slightly  mottled  with  black,  rest 
of  upper  parts  and  wings  closely  barred  with  black  and  buff; 
central  tail  feathers  like  the  back,  remainder  bluish  gray,  with 
slight  buff  mottlings  near  the  tips.  White  line  over  the  eye ; 
sides  of  face  and  throat,  jet  black ;  rest  of  under  parts,  uniform 
cinnamon  rufous ;  bill,  black,  legs  and  feet,  pale  brown. 
Total  length,  8|  inches  ;  wing,  4^ ;  tail,  2|;  tarsus,  i|;  bill,  \. 
Geographical  distribution  —  southern  Arizona  to  Sonora, 
Mexico. 

The  female  closely  resembles  the  female  of  the 
Texan  quail,  but  is  paler,  especially  on  the  upper 
parts,  including  the  wings.  The  under  parts 
show  trifling  differences.  The  cinnamon  band  is 
somewhat  narrower  and  paler;  the  buff  of  the 
throat  is  paler ;  but  the  bars  on  upper  breast  and 
abdomen  are  darker  and  more  sharply  defined. 
There  is  no  noticeable  difference  in  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  male  and  female.  The  conspicuous 
black  mask  gives  to  this  bird  a  most  singu- 
lar appearance,  yet  it  is  exceedingly  handsome. 
When  seen  in  full  sunlight  the  breast  of  the  male 
glows  with  a  rich  red  which  increases  the 
apparant  plumpness  of  a  very  rounded  model. 


90  The  Partridge  Family 

It  is  not  so  abundant  as  its  relatives.  In  Arizona, 
it  appears  to  be  confined  to  a  strip  of  territory 
about  thirty  miles  wide  and  a  hundred  miles  in 
length.  It  is  found  in  the  valley,  on  the  table- 
lands, and  at  a  considerable  elevation,  the  highest 
recorded  being  six  thousand  feet  in  the  Huachuca 
Mountains.  The  call  of  the  male  is  the  familiar 
"  Bob-white,"  but  the  rallying  call  after  a  bevy 
has  been  scattered  shows  a  marked  variation,  it 
sounding  like  Hoo-we.  The  nest  and  eggs  closely 
resemble  those  of  the  northern  species.  The 
food  consists  of  insects,  seeds  in  variety,  and  the 
foliage  of  certain  growths.  To  judge  from  its 
fondness  for  elevations,  this  bird  should  be  hardy 
and  worthy  of  introduction  in  portions  of  our 
western  wilderness  where  the  climatic  conditions 
are  not  too  severe.  Were  the  species  once  well 
established  at  such  points,  birds  bred  in  the  new 
country  might  safely  be  taken  farther  north,  and 
the  process  repeated  until  perhaps  at  last  we 
should  have  a  beautiful,  and  what  should  prove  a 
valuable,  addition  to  the  game  list  of  the  Northern 
states.  Some  of  those  zealous  sportsmen  who 
have  spent  and  frequently  wasted  money  in 
attempts  to  introduce  European  game  might  per- 
haps, with  happier  results,  turn  their  attention  to 
the  masked  Bob-white. 


Tbe  Partridges  91 


THE  PARTRIDGES 

Subfamily — Odontophorina.  Genus,  Oreortyx  (literally  mountain 
quail).  Head  with  long,  slender  crest  of  two  feathers,  upright, 
or  inclined  backward.  Mountain  dwellers.  Plumage  very 
beautiful  with  sharply  contrasting  markings.  The  genus  em- 
braces one  species  and  two  subspecies,  viz. :  O.  pictus,  the 
mountain  partridge ;  O,  p.  phimiferus^  the  plumed  partridge ; 
and  O.  p.  confinis,  the  San  Pedro  partridge. 

Genus  Callipepla,  crest  full  and  short.  C.  squamata,  the  scaled 
partridge,  and  C.  s.  castaneigastra,  the  chestnut-bellied  scaled 
partridge. 

Genus  Lophortyx*  crest  of  several  overlapping  feathers,  recurved, 
upright,  widening  from  base  to  tip,  distinct  from  crown  feathers. 
Z.  californicus,  the  California  partridge ;  L.  c.  vallicola,  the 
valley  partridge ;  and  L.  gambelli,  Gambel's  partridge. 

Genus  Cyrtonyx,  crest  full,  soft,  depressed.  Species,  C.  montezuma, 
the  Massena  partridge. 

THE    MOUNTAIN    PARTRIDGE 
(  Oreortyx  pictus} 

Adult  male  —  Top  of  head,  sides  of  neck  and  breast,  plumbeous; 
entire  upper  parts,  upper  tail-coverts  and  wings,  deep  olive- 
brown,  sometimes  tinged  with  rufous ;  crest  of  lengthened 
straight  feathers,  black ;  chin,  white ;  entire  throat,  rich  chest- 
nut, bordered  on  the  sides  with  black,  and  separated  from  the 
bluish  neck  by  a  conspicuous  white  line ;  a  white  spot  behind 
the  eye ;  flanks,  deep  chestnut,  broadly  barred  with  black  and 
white ;  middle  of  belly,  white ;  under  tail-coverts,  black,  the 
feathers  showing  a  central  line  of  deep  chestnut ;  tail,  olive- 
brown,  mottled  with  black ;  inner  edges  of  tertials  broadly 
marked  with  ochraceous  white ;  bill,  black.  Total  length  about 
10  inches,  wing,  5!;  tail,  3^;  tarsus,  if;  bill,  f .  The  adult 
female  closely  resembles  the  male,  the  only  noticeable  differ- 
ence being  a  somewhat  shorter  crest.  Range,  from  the  Bay  of 
San  Francisco,  California,  through  Oregon  and  Washington. 
Introduced  on  Vancouver  Island. 


92  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

This  comparatively  large  and  exceedingly  hand- 
some species  is  not  highly  esteemed  by  sportsmen 
in  general,  owing  to  its  true  value  not  being  well 
understood.  In  certain  portions  of  California,  and 
notably  in  the  Willamette  Valley,  Oregon,  when 
abundant  it  affords  capital  sport,  while  upon  the 
table  it  is  a  delicacy  not  to  be  forgotten.  As  a 
rule,  one,  or  at  most  two,  broods  are  found  on  a 
favorite  ground,  the  birds  seldom,  if  ever,  flocking 
like  some  of  their  relatives.  O.  pictus  prefers 
moist  districts  and  a  generous  rainfall.  It  is  a 
runner,  and  in  comparison  with  Bob-white,  by 
no  means  so  satisfactory  a  bird  for  dogs  to  work 
on.  After  the  first  flush  the  covey  is  apt  to 
scatter  widely  and  the  beating  up  of  single  birds 
is  a  slow  and  frequently  a  wearying  task.  On 
the  wing,  its  size  and  moderate  speed  render  it 
a  rather  easy  mark. 

The  call  of  the  male  is  suggestive  of  the  crow- 
ing of  a  young  bantam,  while  the  rallying  cry  of 
scattered  birds  is  not  unlike  the  yelping  of  young 
wild  turkeys.  The  female  is  a  watchful  mother, 
leading  and  calling  her  brood  like  a  bantam 
hen,  and  the  young  are  shy,  alert  things,  hiding 
promptly  and  as  closely  as  young  Bob-whites 
when  the  alarm  note  is  sounded.  The  nest  is  a 
grass-lined  depression  in  the  ground,  well  hidden 
under  some  convenient  shelter,  frequently  a  log 
or  bush  or  a  clump  of  grass.  The  eggs  vary  in 


Tbe  Partridges  93 

color  from  pale  to  rich  buff,  without  spots.  The 
food  of  this  species  consists  of  various  seeds  and 
insects,  occasionally  varied  with  grain.  The  bird, 
however,  is  too  shy  and  retiring  in  habit  to  ever 
make  itself  at  home  on  cultivated  ground. 

THE    PLUMED    PARTRIDGE 
(Oreortyx  pictus  plumiferus) 

To  the  ordinary  observer  this  bird  is  exactly 
like  O.  pictus,  but  the  habits  vary.  Strangely 
enough,  the  mountain  partridge  is  less  a  fre- 
quenter of  high  altitudes  than  this  species,  which 
is  frequently  found  at  an  elevation  of  between 
eight  and  ten  thousand  feet.  Its  range  includes 
both  sides  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  eastern  Oregon, 
and  to  the  Panamint  Mountains  and  Mount  Ma- 
gruder,  Nevada ;  in  California,  from  San  Francisco 
Bay  to  the  Argus  Mountains.  It  prefers  the  drier 
country  away  from  the  coast.  It,  too,  is  a  runner, 
and  an  unsatisfactory  object  of  pursuit.  The  nest, 
eggs,  young,  habits  during  the  breeding  season, 
and  food  are  identical  with  those  of  the  preceding 
species ;  in  fact,  the  one  marked  difference  lies  in 
the  preference  of  O.  p.  plumiferus  for  higher 
ground.  To  the  eye,  the  female  is  distinguishable 
by  her  shorter  crest. 


94  The  Partridge  Family 


THE   SAN    PEDRO    PARTRIDGE 
(0.  p.  confinis) 

This  bird  was  found  by  Mr.  Anthony  in  the 
San  Pedro  Mountains  of  Lower  California,  to 
which  range  it  is  confined,  and  abundant  at  six 
to  ten  thousand  feet  above  sea  level ;  during  winter 
it  descends  to  lower  ground.  Only  trifling  varia- 
tions in  color  distinguish  it  from  O.p.plumiferus. 
The  eggs  are  pure  creamy  white. 

THE    SCALED   PARTRIDGE 

(Callipepla  squamata) 

Adult — Head,  varying  from  brown  to  brownish  gray;  tip  of  crest, 
white;  throat,  pale  buff;  hind  neck,  upper  parts  of  back  and 
breast,  bluish  gray,  each  feather  beautifully  bordered  with  black, 
the  marks  following  a  scalelike  arrangement ;  scapulars,  wings, 
lower  back,  and  rump,  pale  brown ;  upper  tail-coverts  and  tail, 
bluish  gray;  flanks,  bluish  gray,  streaked  with  white;  rest  of 
lower  parts,  pale  buff,  feathers  margined  with  deep  brown ;  bill, 
black.  Total  length,  9^  inches;  wing,  5;  tail,  4^;  tarsus,  if. 
In  plumage  the  sexes  are  exactly  alike.  Range,  western  Texas 
New  Mexico,  southern  Arizona,  Valley  of  Mexico. 

This  beautiful  bird,  also  known  as  "  blue  quail," 
"  white  topknot,"  "  white-crested  quail,"  and  "  cac- 
tus-quail," is  a  frequenter  of  the  mesas  and  a 
lover  of  dry  plateaus,  where  vegetation  is  sparse 
and  water  not  to  be  found.  Here,  amid  sun-baked 
cactus,  yuccas,  and  thinly  dispersed  thorny  growths, 
it  finds  congenial  haunts.  Needless  to  say,  such 


Tbe  Partridges  95 

ground  is  no  place  for  good  dogs,  and  even  if  the 
canines  could  work,  the  habits  of  the  scaled  par- 
tridge would  not  recommend  it  to  sportsmen.  It 
is  an  inveterate  runner,  a  shy,  wary  creature,  ever 
ready  to  go  sprinting  away  from  the  first  sugges- 
tion of  danger,  and  only  taking  wing  when  sur- 
prised or  closely  pressed.  When  flushed,  its  sole 
idea  appears  to  be  to  get  to  earth  again  as  speedily 
as  may  be  and  to  resume  its  tireless  trotting.  It 
is  found  at  an  altitude  of  six  to  seven  thousand 
feet,  and  descends  to  the  lowlands  during  severe 
weather,  but  never  appears  to  seek  cover.  Its 
food  consists  of  seeds,  berries,  buds,  leaves,  and 
insects,  though  grain  is  greedily  devoured  if  op- 
portunity offers.  Its  alarm  note  is  a  peculiar, 
low,  hollow-sounding,  and  apparently  somewhat 
ventriloquial  effort. 

The  pairs  begin  nesting  in  May,  and  two,  and 
sometimes  three,  broods  are  hatched  during  a 
season.  The  nest  is  placed  upon  the  ground 
under  any  convenient  shelter ;  the  eggs  are  light 
buff,  freckled  with  brownish  spots,  and  the  aver- 
age number  about  a  dozen. 

Were  it  not  for  its  habit  of  running,  this  bird 
might  have  proved  a  valuable  addition  to  the 
game  list  of  the  country,  instead  of  being  an 
abomination  to  the  sportsman,  and  a  menace  to 
the  subsequent  usefulness  of  any  dog  unfortunate 
enough  to  be  sent  after  it. 


96  The  Partridge  Family 

THE    CHESTNUT-BELLIED    SCALED    PARTRIDGE 
(C.  s.  castaneigastra) 

This  is  a  subspecies  of  the  preceding,  distin- 
guished by  a  more  or  less  extensive  patch  of 
chestnut  on  the  belly.  With  this  exception,  its 
habits,  color,  and  markings  so  closely  resemble 
the  other  that  further  references  are  unnecessary. 
It  is  found  in  the  lower  Rio  Grande  Valley,  in 
Texas,  and  in  eastern  Mexico.  From  the  sport- 
ing point  of  view,  it  has  little  to  recommend  it. 

THE    CALIFORNIA    PARTRIDGE 

(Lophortyx  californicus) 

Adult  male  —  Forehead,  buff;  shafts  of  feathers,  black;  head,  dark 
chestnut,  bordered  anteriorly  and  on  sides  with  black,  followed 
by  a  line  of  pure  white ;  line  from  bill  to  eye,  white ;  chin  and 
throat,  jet-black,  bordered  all  round  from  behind  the  eye  with 
white,  margined  with  black ;  back  of  neck  and  upper  part  of 
back,  blue,  the  feathers  margined  with  black  and  a  minute  blu- 
ish white  spot  at  tip ;  entire  upper  parts,  deep  smoke-brown ; 
inner  edge  of  tertials,  buff,  forming  two  conspicuous  lines ;  pri- 
maries, dark  brown;  breast,  deep  blue;  belly,  deep  buff,  the 
feathers  margined  with  black;  flanks,  smoke-brown,  streaked 
with  white;  abdomen,  dark  chestnut,  the  feathers  with  black 
margins;  vent  and  under  tail-coverts  deep  buff,  with  broad 
central  streaks  of  dark  brown;  bill,  black;  crest,  black,  very 
narrow  at  base,  widening  out  and  curving  forward  at  the  tip  ;  all 
the  feathers  (about  six)  enclosed  between  the  webs  of  the  ante- 
rior plume.  Total  length  of  bird,  10  inches;  wing,  4$;  tail,  4; 
tarsus,  i^ ;  bill,  \.  The  female  has  a  shorter,  chestnut-brown 
crest ;  head,  smoky  gray,  without  white  or  black  markings  ;  no 
chestnut  patch  on  abdomen,  and  the  scaly  markings  less  pro- 
nounced. Colors  throughout  more  subdued.  Range,  Cali- 
fornia coast  region,  as  far  north  as  Monterey.  Introduced  into 
Oregon,  Washington,  and  British  Columbia. 


The  Partridges  97 

This  handsome  and  sprightly  species,  while  a 
persistent  runner,  has  been  compelled  to  furnish 
much  excellent  sport.  It  is  a  haunter  of  canons, 
brushy  slopes,  and  fields,  and  its  pursuit  may  be 
best  described  as  continued  and  rapid  skirmishing 
by  the  sportsman  afoot.  Dogs  are  practically  use- 
less for  work  on  this  aggravating  bird.  I  have 
never  seen  it  lie  to  a  point  —  that  is,  after  the 
manner  of  Bob-white.  In  certain  cover,  scat- 
tered birds  occasionally  do  so,  but  a  safe  rule  for 
the  man  who  owns  a  good  dog  is  to  leave  that 
dog  at  home  when  the  quarry  is  the  California 
partridge. 

In  spite  of  many  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
delights  of  skirmishing  behind  these  nimble-footed 
small  rascals,  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  they  are 
greatly  overdrawn,  as  I  am  that  on  foot,  on  the 
wing,  and  on  the  board,  L.  californicus  is  un- 
worthy of  mention  in  comparison  with  Bob-white. 
I  am  ready  to  admit  that  the  bustling  of  these  birds 
from  clump  to  clump  is  jolly  good  fun ;  that  the 
chase,  for  that  is  what  it  amounts  to,  has  a  charm 
peculiar  to  itself ;  that  the  shooting  of  the  bird  is 
fairly  difficult,  under  the  conditions,  —  but  beyond 
that  I  will  not  go.  To  rank  this  partridge,  as 
some  have,  with  Bob-white,  is  an  absurdity  — 
indeed,  any  comparison  is  an  absurdity  because 
of  the  totally  different  conditions.  Sometimes, 
however,  L.  californicus  will  behave  as  though  he 


98  The  Partridge  Family 

had  closely  studied  a  page  of  Bob-white's  primer. 
A  personal  memory  of  the  covers  of  Vancouver 
Island  is  all  the  more  pleasant  because  of  one  day 
during  which  the  crested  sprinters  did  not  all  get 
away  at  the  crack  of  the  gun.  A  wise  old  dog 
that  had  been  brought  north  from  California  ren- 
dered yeoman  service  by  pointing  bird  after  bird, 
and  for  perhaps  an  hour  two  guns  were  busy  at  a 
very  fair  imitation  of  genuine  sport.  This  par- 
ticular lot  of  birds  certainly  lay  close,  and  when 
flushed  showed  considerable  speed,  but  taken  on 
their  merits,  judged  by  our  experience,  they  fell 
below  the  high  standard  of  the  eastern  bird. 
Other  lots,  found  near  by,  ran  persistently,  and  by 
their  behavior  caused  what  may  be  termed  much 
strenuous  speech. 

Where  the  birds  are  plentiful,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  breeding  season  the  broods  of  a  dis- 
trict band  together,  thus  forming  great  packs,  of 
which  one  may  contain  three  or  four  hundred 
individuals.  This  grouselike  habit  of  packing  is 
common  to  most  of  the  partridges,  and,  in  spite 
of  noted  authorities  to  the  contrary,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  Bob-white  (Colinus  virginianus) 
also  occasionally  packs  during  the  period  of  par- 
tial migration.  I  do  not  mean  that  hundreds  join 
forces,  but  that  from  forty  to  sixty  are  now  and 
then  found  together,  all  matured  birds,  at  the 
opening  of  the  season  during  the  restless  period. 


The  Partridges  99 

The  theory  of  two  unusually  large  broods  of  that 
year  does  not  apply,  as  in  that  case  the  plumage 
of  the  second  lot  would  at  once  betray  them.  In 
my  opinion,  three,  and  perhaps  four,  bevies  some- 
times drift  together  by  accident  of  the  partial 
migration  and  fare  forward,  for  the  time  being  at 
least,  in  packlike  formation.  Whether  or  no 
such  birds  would  permanently  maintain  their  re- 
lationship I  am  unable  to  say,  as  (unfortunately 
for  the  cause  of  science !)  whenever  it  has  been 
rny  good  fortune  to  stumble  upon  such  an  assem- 
blage, I  have  behaved  in  a  fashion  not  at  all  cal- 
culated to  preserve  pack  formation,  or  even  the 
lives  of  individual  members. 

To  return  to  L.  calif ornicus.  The  great  packs 
remain  together  until  the  approach  of  the  mating 
season,  which  as  a  rule  is  some  time  in  March ; 
then  they  break  up,  and  the  important  business 
of  pairing  and  nesting  begins.  The  birds  make 
little  effort  at  concealing  the  nest,  which  is  usu- 
ally upon  the  ground  beside  a  stump,  or  under  a 
bush,  but  rarely  in  a  tree  near  the  ground.  The 
eggs  number  about  fifteen  and  are  pale  buff, 
dotted  or  blotched  with  a  darker  tint.  The 
period  of  incubation  is  about  three  weeks,  and 
chicks  run  as  soon  as  hatched.  The  male  does 
not  share  the  task  of  hatching,  but  both  parents 
tend  the  young  and  warn  them  of  approaching 
danger.  The  chicks  are  very  clever  at  hiding 


ioo  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

even  in  scanty  cover,  resembling  in  their  ways 
the  young  of  C.  virginianus.  Their  food  is 
chiefly  insects  until  they  are  well  grown,  when 
seeds,  berries,  and  various  green  growths  are 
added.  Owing  to  the  ravages  of  gunners  and 
trappers,  the  birds  are  now  comparatively  scarce 
in  many  of  their  old-time  strongholds. 

THE   VALLEY    PARTRIDGE 
(Z,.  c.  vallicola) 

Only  a  very  close  observer  could  detect  the 
slight  difference  in  plumage  —  the  general  paler 
tone  —  which  distinguishes  this  from  the  preced- 
ing species.  In  habits,  food,  coloring,  and  mark- 
ing of  eggs,  the  variation,  if  any  exist,  is  too 
slight  to  require  comment,  while  in  speed  of  foot 
and  lack  of  those  qualities  which  endear  a  bird 
to  sportsmen  the  two  are  worthy  rivals.  The 
California  partridge  is  a  bird  of  the  coast,  while 
this  one  is  found  in  the  interior  of  California, 
Nevada,  Oregon,  and  Utah,  introduced  in  the 
last  named.  It  is  hardy,  and  in  spite  of  its  name 
is  found  on  the  mountains  of  Lower  California  at 
an  elevation  of  between  eight  and  nine  thousand 
feet.  Here,  during  the  occasional  very  dry  seasons, 
it  does  not  breed,  the  packs  remaining  unbroken 
until  more  favorable  conditions  occur.  This 
curious  fact,  of  course,  means  the  non-production 
of  young  for  a  season,  which,  in  the  opinion  of 


A   DESERT   RUNNER 
(Gambel's  Partridge) 


The  Partridge ?  •  ioi: 

those  who  judge  a  bird  by  its  sporting  qualities, 
is  no  great  loss. 

GAMBEL'S  PARTRIDGE 

(L.  gambeli) 

Adult  male  —  Top  of  head  and  nape,  bright  chestnut;  forehead, 
black,  grayish  above  the  bill,  and  crossed  by  a  narrow  white 
line  between  the  eyes ;  a  white  stripe  from  behind  eye  to  back 
of  ear-coverts,  bordered  with  black ;  chin,  throat,  and  side  of 
face,  black,  bordered  all  around  with  white ;  back  and  sides  of 
neck,  lead  color,  each  feather  narrowly  bordered  with  brownish 
black ;  entire  upper  parts,  grayish  blue,  darkest  on  upper  tail- 
coverts,  where  the  feathers  are  faintly  margined  with  white; 
tail,  pale  blue  ;  wings,  like  the  back,  but  with  a  brownish  tinge ; 
the  inner  webs  of  the  tertials  broadly  margined  with  white,  and 
the  outer  webs  of  those  nearest  the  primaries  narrowly  mar- 
gined with  yellowish  white,  forming  a  horizontal  bar  when  the 
wing  is  closed ;  primaries,  brown,  grayish  on  the  outer  webs ; 
upper  part  of  breast,  pale  blue ;  lower  part  to  abdomen,  bright 
buff;  flanks,  dark  chestnut,  with  a  conspicuous  white  stripe 
along  the  shaft ;  abdomen,  black,  flanked  by  bright  buff  feathers, 
with  a  white  stripe  in  the  centre,  bordered  with  chestnut ;  vent 
and  under  tail-coverts,  pale  buff  with  grayish  brown  central 
stripe  tinged  with  chestnut ;  an  upright  plume  composed  of  five 
or  six  black  feathers,  curving  forward,  and  the  webs  turned 
backward,  each  overlapping  the  one  behind,  rises  from  the  fore- 
head, sometimes  bending  over  the  bill ;  bill,  black ;  feet  and 
legs,  horn  color.  Total  length,  10  inches;  wing,  4f;  tail,  4^ ; 
bill,  i;  legs,  \\. 

Adult  female  —  Upper  parts,  olive-green  ;  top  of  head,  olive-brown ; 
throat,  dark  buff,  streaked  with  bluish  gray ;  upper  part  of 
breast,  grayish  blue ;  rest  of  under  parts  pale  buff,  the  feathers 
narrowly  margined  with  blackish  chestnut;  flanks,  chestnut, 
with  central  white  stripe;  under  tail-coverts,  bronzy  brown, 
margined  with  pale  buff;  wings  as  in  the  male,  the  tertials  less 
conspicuously  margined  with  white ;  tail,  purplish  blue  (Elliot). 
The  crest  is  short,  straight,  and  brownish  black.  Range, 


1 6*2  :  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona  to  San  Bernardino 
County,  California,  southern  Utah,  Nevada,  and  northwestern 
Mexico. 

Beautiful,  hardy,  prolific,  were  it  not  for  its 
detestable  habit  of  running,  this  foppishly  garbed 
varlet  would  occupy  a  high  place  among  our 
upland  game.  But  alas !  like  its  near  relatives, 
this  bird  appears  to  be  mainly  occupied  either  in 
running  away  from  something,  or  in  looking  for 
something  to  run  from.  It  has  an  annoying 
habit  of  sticking  to  the  thorniest  and  most  im- 
pregnable cover  available,  the  most  rugged  of 
rocks  and  the  steepest  of  slopes,  and  through  it 
all  it  runs  —  and  keeps  on  running.  It  can  fly 
swiftly  enough  when  in  the  humor,  but  the 
humor  seldom  seizes  it.  Only  a  Christian  of  the 
sternest  stripe  is  fit  to  be  trusted  on  the  trail  of 
this  nimble-footed  little  rascal.  In  its  pursuit,  a 
system  of  rushing  tactics  is  bound  to  be  the  most 
profitable,  and  this  can  be  successfully  followed 
only  by  a  man  who  is  strong,  wiry,  in  good  con- 
dition, and  thoroughly  informed  concerning  the 
habits  of  the  game.  Such  a  man  very  frequently 
can  make  a  fine  bag,  and,  needless  to  say,  he  will 
earn  it.  Those  who  have  grown  wise  in  the 
pursuit  of  this  bird,  who  have  larded  the  lean 
earth  while  rushing  the  open,  charging  the  cover, 
and  storming  the  heights,  know  that  if  they  can 
get  to  close  quarters  with  the  pattering  blue 


The  Partridges  103 

army,  sport  worthy  the  name  may  follow.  Scat- 
tered birds  sometimes  lie  sufficiently  close  to 
allow  of  their  being  beaten  up  singly,  or  a  brace 
or  so  at  a  time.  When  this  happens,  the  man 
who  has  been  sweating  over  an  abomination  of 
hard  going,  may  come  in  for  a  bit  of  very  pretty 
shooting.  When  flushed  the  birds  move  smartly, 
keeping  low,  and  usually  curving  away  to  one 
side,  when  they  offer  a  fair,  small,  and  fast  mark. 
In  addition  to  running,  Gambel's  partridge  will 
not  hesitate  to  tree  in  any  convenient  growth. 
It  also  has  an  exasperating  habit  of  running  to 
the  edge  of  a  canon,  flying  down  into  it,  and 
climbing  up  the  farther  side,  which  means  the 
hardest  of  hard  work  for  whoever  would  follow. 
While  apparently  fond  of  the  bottoms  and  lower 
sides  of  canons,  it  may  be  found  almost  any- 
where up  to  a  height  of  eight  thousand  feet  or 
more,  and  never  very  far  from  water. 

The  birds  pair  during  April.  The  nest  shows 
little  skill,  being  a  slight  hollow  roughly  lined 
with  a  few  leaves  or  blades  of  grass,  but  it  usu- 
ally is  well  concealed.  The  eggs  number  from 
twelve  to  fifteen,  and  are  marked  with  various 
shades  of  brown  upon  a  pale  buff  ground,  the 
whole  overcast  with  a  purplish  tinge.  Instances 
of  the  nest  being  placed  in  a  tree  or  cactus  some 
feet  above  the  ground  are  on  record.  The  period 
of  incubation  is  about  twenty-eight  days.  The 


104  Tbe  Partridge  Family 

young  run  as  soon  as  hatched,  and  in  their  habits 
of  hiding  and  taking  advantage  of  the  slightest 
cover  resemble  the  young  of  the  Bob-white. 
Frequently  two  broods  are  raised  in  a  season. 
The  love  call  cannot  well  be  represented  in  type ; 
the  alarm  note  is  a  grating  sound,  while  the  signal 
to  decamp  is  an  unmistakable  quit. 

THE    MASSENA    PARTRIDGE 
(Cry tony x  montezumd) 

Adult  male  —  Forehead,  black,  with  white  stripe  passing  upward 
from  nostril ;  top  of  head,  pale  brown,  barred  with  black ;'  occi- 
put, plain  brown,  feathers  forming  a  short,  thick  crest ;  rest  of 
head,  white,  with  a  plumbeous  stripe  from  angle  of  mouth,  ex- 
tending in  a  curved  line  beneath  the  ear,  meeting  a  broader  line 
that  crosses  it  at  right  angles,  and  extends  from  above  the  ear 
to  the  lower  margin  of  the  black  throat;  a  small  triangular 
curved  black  patch  beneath  the  eye ;  the  brown  of  the  head  is 
separated  from  the  white  by  a  narrow  black  line ;  the  white,  on 
side  and  fore  neck,  is  margined  beneath  by  a  rather  broad 
black  band ;  upper  parts,  reddish  brown,  barred  with  black,  and 
streaked  with  buff;  secondaries,  pale  purplish  gray,  spotted  with 
black;  primaries,  dark  brown,  the  outer  webs  spotted  with 
white;  sides  of  breast  and  flanks,  dark  plumbeous,  almost 
black,  spotted  with  white ;  line  through  middle  of  breast  and 
the  belly,  dark  chestnut ;  rest  of  under  parts  and  thighs,  velvety 
black ;  maxilla,  black ;  mandible,  black,  with  yellowish  spot  on 
the  side.  Total  length,  8|  inches  ;  wing,  5  ;  tail,  2|;  tarsus,  ij; 
bill,  along  culmen,  f . 

Adult  female  —  General  color,  light  pinkish  cinnamon,  upper  parts 
barred  with  black.  Head,  without  black  or  white  stripes,  barred 
on  top  and  crest  with  black ;  throat,  pinky  white ;  a  few  black 
spots  on  flanks  and  lower  parts  of  chest ;  abdomen  and  anal 
region,  buff;  secondaries,  brownish  black,  barred  with  pale 
cinnamon ;  primaries,  dark  brown,  spotted  with  white  on  outer 


The  Partridges  105 

webs ;  maxilla,  black ;  mandible,  pale  horn  color.  Measure- 
ments, same  as  male.  The  downy  young  are  prettily  marked 
above  with  light  and  dark  brown,  spotted  with  a  darker  shade. 
Throat,  pale  brown,  shading  into  dull  white  below.  Range, 
western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona,  table-lands  of 
Mexico. 

A  harlequin  in  markings  and  a  fool  in  actions 
might  truthfully  be  said  of  this  peculiar  bird.  Of 
its  two  common  names  —  "  black-bellied "  and 
"  fool  quail "  —  the  one  aptly  refers  to  an  oddity 
of  its  coloration,  while  the  other  has  been  earned 
by  its  apparent  lack  of  that  cleverness  which  goes 
far  toward  making  the  fame  of  some  of  its  rela- 
tives. To  me,  its  rounded  back,  movements,  and 
the  spotted  sides  are  comically  suggestive  of  a 
small  guinea  fowl.  It  prefers  high  ground,  and 
in  the  mountain  ranges  as  high  as  nine  thousand 
feet.  In  disposition  and  habits  it  differs  broadly 
from  all  members  of  the  group,  being  seemingly 
too  confiding  to  suspect  danger.  It  shows  no  ten- 
dency to  run,  it  does  not  pack,  in  fact  in  seldom- 
visited  regions  each  family  keeps  to  itself  and  fol- 
lows the  even  tenor  of  a  placid  life  without  concern 
for  the  ways  of  the  human  destroyer.  When 
closely  approached,  it  may  move  sufficiently  to 
escape  being  trodden  upon,  but  fear  seems  foreign 
to  its  gentle  nature.  As  often  as  not  it  will  stand 
motionless  while  regarding  the  intruder  with  an 
air  of  mild  wonder.  Or,  possibly  in  obedience 
to  some  instinctive  trust  in  coloration,  it  will  de- 


106  The  Partridge  Family 

liberately  squat  in  plain  view  and  remain  motion- 
less until  struck  with  a  whip  or  stick. 

Not  a  very  promising  subject  for  sport,  would 
naturally  be  one's  first  thought,  yet  there  is  more 
in  these  queer  small  birds  than  is  at  first  apparent. 
Once  flushed,  they  speed  away  at  a  great  rate, 
offering  fair,  but  not  too  easy,  marks.  They  will 
then  scatter  and  lie  as  close  as  the  northern 
birds.  To  beat  them  up  one  at  a  time  is  no  poor 
imitation  of  Bob-white  shooting,  and  the  use  of 
a  good  sixteen  or  twenty  gauge  would  add  zest 
to  the  sport.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  as  it  probably 
will  prove,  that  a  better  acquaintance  with  the 
ways  of  the  shooting  man  will  sharpen  this  bird's 
wits  until  it  learns  to  take  better  care  of  itself. 
As  it  is,  its  sole  fault  from  the  sporting  stand- 
point is  an  excess  of  faith  in  the  generous  ten- 
dency of  mankind. 

The  nest  is  a  grass-lined  hollow  of  the  ground, 
and  usually  contains  about  ten  brilliantly  white 
eggs.  It  is  commonly  found  in  a  clump  of  grass, 
or  under  a  shrub,  and  as  a  rule  well  concealed. 


THE   GROUSE   FAMILY 

Sub-family  Tetraonincs,  which  includes  all  grouse.  The  American 
species  are:  the  ruffed  grouse,  the  dusky  grouse,  the  spruce- 
grouse,  the  pinnated  grouse,  or  prairie-chicken,  the  sharp- 
tailed  grouse,  the  cock-of-the-plains,  and  the  ptarmigan. 

Genus  Bonasa  —  Head  crested,  rudimentary  air-sac  covered  by  a  tuft 
of  broad,  soft,  glossy  feathers ;  tail  broad,  long,  rounded,  fan- 
shaped  ;  legs  bare  from  heel.  The  ruffed  grouse,  B.  umbellus ; 
Sabine's  grouse,  B.  u.  sabini ;  the  Canadian  ruffed  grouse,  B.  u. 
togata,  and  the  gray  ruffed  grouse,  B.  u.  umbelloides. 

Genus  Dendragapus —  Head  slightly  crested;  tail  long,  square  at 
tip;  air-sacs  on  neck.  The  dusky  grouse,  D.  obscurus ;  the 
sooty  grouse,  D.  o.  fuliginosus ;  Richardson's  grouse,  D.  o. 
richardsoni. 

Genus  Canachites  —  Head  without  crest ;  tail  moderately  long,  nearly 
square  at  tip;  no  air-sacs  on  neck.  The  Canada  grouse,  C. 
canadensiS)  and  the  Franklin's  grouse,  C.  franklini. 

Genus  Tympanuchus  —  Head  crested ;  winglike  tufts  above  air-sacs 
on  neck ;  tail  short,  rounded.  The  pinnated  grouse,  T.  amer- 
icanusj  heath-hen,  T.  cupido ;  lesser  prairie-hen,  T,  pallidi- 
cinctus ;  and  Attwater's  prairie-hen,  T.  a.  attwateri. 

Genus  Pedioecetes — Head  slightly  crested;  no  winglike  tufts  above 
air-sacs ;  tail  pointed.  The  sharp-tailed  grouse,  P.phasianellus ; 
the  Columbian  sharp-tailed  grouse,  P.  p.  columbianus,  and  the 
prairie  sharp-tailed  grouse,  P.  p.  campestris. 

Genus  Centrocercus  —  No  crest ;  air-sacs  very  large ;  tail  very  long, 
of  narrow,  stiff  feathers  ;  male  much  larger  than  female.  The 
cock-of-the-plains  (sage-cock),  C.  urophasianus. 

Genus  Lagopus  —  No  crest ;  tarsi  and  toes  densely  feathered ;  tail 
medium  length,  slightly  rounded;  plumage  turning  white  in 
winter.  The  willow-ptarmigan,  L.  lagopus ;  Allen's  ptarmigan, 
L.  I.  alleni;  rock-ptarmigan,  L.  rupestris;  Reinhardt's  ptarmi- 
gan, L.  r.  reinhardti;  Welch's  ptarmigan,  L.  r.  welchi;  Nel- 
107 


io8  The  Grouse  Family 

son's  ptarmigan,  L.  r.  nelsoni ;  Turner's  ptarmigan,  L.  r. 
atkensis ;  TownsencTs  ptarmigan,  L.  r.  townsendi;  Evermann's 
ptarmigan,  L.  evermanni',  and  the  white-tailed  ptarmigan,  Z,. 
leucurus. 


THE    RUFFED    GROUSE 
(Bonasa  umbellus) 

Adult  male — Upper  parts  varied  with  yellowish  brown  and  gray, 
barred  on  head,  neck,  and  upper  part  of  back  and  wings,  with 
black  and  rufous ;  lower  part  of  back  and  rump,  gray,  inter- 
spersed with  dark  red,  and  ovate  spots  of  pale  buff,  surrounded 
with  black  ;  scapulars  and  wing-coverts  conspicuously  streaked 
with  buffy  white ;  primaries,  grayish  brown,  outer  webs  barred  with 
creamy  white  ;  upper  tail-coverts,  gray,  mottled  and  barred  with 
black;  on  sides  of  neck,  tufts  of  broad,  lengthened  feathers, 
black,  tipped  with  light  brown  and  shot  with  metallic  lustre; 
throat,  buff,  faintly  barred  with  brown ;  lower  parts,  buff  on 
chest,  shading  to  white  below,  barred  with  brown ;  under  tail- 
coverts,  buff,  barred  with  dark  brown  and  with  a  V-shaped 
white  mark  at  tip;  tail,  gray,  or  yellowish  brown;  sometimes 
rusty,  mottled  with  black  and  crossed  by  irregular  buff  bands, 
bordered  above  by  black,  and  a  broad,  subterminal  black  band 
bordered  above  and  below  with  gray,  mottled  with  black,  the 
upper  gray  bar  bordered  above  with  a  narrow  black  bar ;  legs, 
feathered  to  middle  of  tarsus ;  maxilla,  black ;  mandible,  horn 
color.  Total  length,  about  16  inches  ;  wing,  7^  ;  tail,  6\. 

The  female  closely  resembles  the  male,  but  is  a  trifle  smaller  and 
has  the  neck-tufts  smaller — frequently  is  without  them.  The 
downy  young  have  the  upper  parts  chestnut,  a  black  line  from 
back  of  eye,  across  ear-coverts  ;  under  parts,  light  buff.  Range 
—  eastern  United  States  and  southern  Canada,  from  Massachu- 
setts to  northern  Georgia,  Mississippi,  and  Arkansas,  westward 
to  the  Dakotas. 

While  a  stanch  supporter  of  Bob-white's  claim 
to  the  premier  position  among  upland  game,  the 
writer  pleads  guilty  to  a  genuine  love  for  the 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  109 

ruffed  grouse.  Not  that  the  bird  has  ever  held 
out  any  marked  inducement,  or  in  any  way  what- 
ever encouraged  a  closer  relationship,  but  rather 
because  of  the  number  and  infinite  variety  of  the 
difficulties  which  have  marked  the  progress,  or 
lack  of  progress,  of  the  suit.  There  is  an  old  say- 
ing that  "  Blessings  brighten  when  they  take  their 
flight."  If  this  holds  good  of  ruffed  grouse,  the 
writer  gravely  suspects  that  some  of  his  lost  grouse 
probably  by  now  are  too  incandescent  for  the 
naked  eye. 

Usually  a  haunter  of  the  most  difficult  country 
and  the  densest  cover,  this  bird  can  be  success- 
fully pursued  only  by  the  man  who  can  combine 
with  rapid,  accurate  shooting  a  quick  perception 
and  ready  resource.  The  grouse  is  wily,  especially 
in  much  disturbed  covers,  and  the  conditions 
may  vary  with  every  shot.  The  man  who  can 
average  half  his  birds,  taking  them  as  they  flush, 
is  entitled  to  high  rank  even  among  the  best  of 
company.  The  writer  has  shot  ruffed  grouse  in 
most  of  the  good  sections  of  that  tremendous 
expanse  of  country  which  extends  from  ocean  to 
ocean,  from  the  latitude  of  northern  Pennsylvania 
to  north  of  Winnipeg,  Manitoba.  Within  this 
huge  belt  is  to  be  found  the  cream  of  the  shoot- 
ing, and  nowhere  are  there  easy  birds  —  that  is, 
after  they  once  take  wing  in  earnest.  There,  of 
course,  are  uneducated  grouse  in  remote  corners. 


no  The  Grouse  Family 

Some  of  these  birds  may  betray  a  confiding  trust 
which  may  astonish  a  tenderfoot,  but  once  they 
realize  their  mistake  and  turn  on  the  full  voltage, 
they  go  like  all  possessed. 

The  habits  of  the  grouse  vary  somewhat  in 
different  localities,  but  as  a  general  rule  it  is  to 
be  found  in  what  is  termed  heavy  cover,  usually 
another  name  for  the  worst  there  is  in  that  partic- 
ular section.  A  snarl  of  thickets,  swamps,  dense 
second  growth,  brier  patches,  heavy  woods,  beech 
ridges,  dark  ravines,  forested  hill  and  mountain 
sides,  the  brushy  banks  of  streams  —  each  and 
all  find  favor  with  the  strong,  swift  fliers,  and  right 
well  do  they  know  how  to  make  the  most  of  every 
protective  feature  of  their  chosen  ground. 

The  love-making  of  the  grouse  is  precisely 
what  might  be  expected  of  so  game  and  vigorous 
a  fellow.  He  chooses  some  spot  which  suits  his 
fancy,  and  from  it  sends  notice  to  all  males  and 
females  within  hearing  that  he  is  open  to  engage- 
ment—  either  way,  love  or  war,  or  both.  He 
usually  gets  both.  The  challenge  is  not  a  vocal 
effort,  but  the  well-known  drumming,  a  most 
peculiar  sound. 

Perhaps  nothing  connected  with  the  ways  of 
game  birds  has  caused  more  discussion  in  and 
out  of  print,  or  more  bitter  controversies,  than  this 
same  drumming.  One  of  the  chief  causes  of  the 
misunderstanding  was  the  ignorance  of  the  men 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  in 

most  interested  —  the  sportsmen.  Not  so  long 
ago  these  men,  as  a  class,  knew  comparatively 
little  about  the  habits  of  their  favorite  game  dur- 
ing the  close  season.  They  hunted  and  shot,  and 
while  so  doing  naturally  familiarized  themselves 
with  the  ways  of  the  quarry  during  the  open 
season.  That  knowledge  was  necessary,  for  it 
enabled  them  to  get  the  game ;  but  further  than 
that  few  of  them  cared  to  go.  The  sportsmen- 
naturalists,  so  numerous  to-day,  were  then  few 
and  far  apart  —  it  was  to  kill,  not  to  combine 
entertaining  study  with  killing  in  moderation. 
Hence,  when  untrained  eyes  did  not  know  how 
to  look,  they  misread  many  of  the  signs.  They 
saw  the  male  grouse  upon  his  favorite  drumming- 
log,  saw  him  flap  his  wings,  heard  the  drumming, 
and  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  grouse  got 
upon  a  log  because  he  wanted  to  thump  it  with 
his  wings  and  so  produce  the  sound.  It  never 
occurred  to  them  that  a  bird's  wings  striking  a  log 
could  not  produce  the  sound,  or  that  wings  so 
used  would  of  necessity  speedily  wear  out,  or  at 
least  show  plain  evidence  of  hard  usage.  So  they 
told  about  seeing  grouse  beat  logs  with  their  wings, 
and  their  listeners,  or  readers,  not  knowing  any 
better,  accepted  the  stories. 

The  fact  is  that  the  drumming  grouse  beats 
only  the  air  and  possibly  his  own  body  with  his 
wings.  Variations  of  the  habit  are  common 


n2  The  Grouse  Family 

among  gallinaceous  birds.  The  wing-clapping  of 
the  domestic  cock  is  too  well  known  to  require 
comment.  The  gobbler,  wild  and  tame,  and  the 
peacock  make  a  rustling  with  the  wings.  The 
pheasant  makes  a  peculiar  whirring;  pigeons,  a 
vigorous  clapping.  If  any  one  will  pass  his  hand 
over  a  tame  gobbler  engaged  in  strutting,  he  will 
at  once  notice  that  the  bird  feels  as  though  he 
were  full  of  air.  Parts  of  him  are.  In  the  re- 
gion of  the  crop,  and  along  the  sides  under  the 
wings,  he  feels  like  a  big,  feathery  bladder.  Startle 
him,  or  slap  him  smartly,  and  he  may  let  the  air 
out  through  his  mouth  with  a  rush.  If  he  be  suf- 
ficiently tame  to  stand  it,  pat  him  smartly  in  rapid 
succession  with  the  open  hands,  and  the  sound 
will  be  a  muffled  beating,  not  at  all  unlike  the 
drumming  of  the  grouse.  A  well-directed  boot 
against  a  foot-ball  produces  a  somewhat  similar 
thump,  and  the  writer  has  drummed  no  bad  imita- 
tion of  it  upon  a  well-filled  punching-bag. 

To  stalk  and  closely  approach  a  drumming 
grouse  is  a  comparatively  easy  task,  provided  the 
stalker  move  cautiously  until  reasonably  near,  and 
then  stirs  only  while  the  drummer  is  in  action. 
A  good  glass,  which,  by  the  way,  every  intelligent 
observer  should  carry,  will  reveal  some  interesting 
facts.  The  bird  may  drum  upon  a  log  —  the 
favorite  place  —  or  a  stump,  a  mossy  stone,  an 
ant-hill,  or  even  upon  level  ground,  —  notes  care- 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  113 

fully  made  include  all  of  these.  To  the  drum- 
ming-place the  bird  will  return  day  after  day, 
sometimes  for  more  than  one  season.  Most  coun- 
try boys  know  where  is  a  drumming-log. 

When  inclined  to  drum,  the  male  mounts  the 
log,  or  whatever  it  may  be,  and  for  a  time  moves 
to  and  fro,  peering  this  way  and  that  and  ap- 
parently listening  intently.  While  so  doing  his 
plumage  presents  a  loosely  ruffled  appearance, 
his  wings  half-trailing,  his  tail  half-spread.  Pres- 
ently he  puffs  himself  up,  throws  his  head  far  back, 
elevates  his  beautiful  fan  of  a  tail  and  spreads  it 
to  the  complete  semicircle.  He  is  now  in  the 
pose  of  a  strutting  gobbler,  or  peacock,  and  he 
looks  somewhat  like  a  brown  fantail  pigeon.  The 
tufts  on  his  neck  are  elevated  and  spread,  the 
wings  are  trailing,  and  he  struts,  sometimes  with 
a  quick  forward  movement  like  a  gobbler,  occa- 
sionally merely  turning  this  way  and  that,  like 
a  peacock,  this  whenever  what  he  is  on  affords 
scant  room  for  evolutions.  Next,  the  head  is 
thrust  forward  to  the  full  length  of  the  neck,  the 
tail  is  partially  closed  and  lowered  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  back,  and  he  assumes  the  position  of 
a  cock  upon  a  fence  the  instant  before  starting  to 
crow.  Then  the  wing-beats  begin  —  at  first  slow 
and  measured,  then  quicker  and  quicker  until  the 

separate  beats  are  lost,  thus:  Buff buff 

buff buff— buff— buff— buff-buff-burr-r-r-r! 


ii4  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

The  sound  is  peculiar,  difficult  to  describe  and 
as  difficult  to  locate,  for  it  unquestionably  has 
great  ventriloquial  power.  Sometimes  it  is  strongly 
suggestive  of  low,  distant  thunder,  especially  when 
the  opening  beats  have  not  been  caught.  Again 
it  is  like  the  deep,  muffled  roll  of  a  drum,  or  the 
sound  of  a  distant  carriage  rapidly  driven  over 
a  short  wooden  bridge.  The  writer  has  more 
than  once  been  fooled  by  the  sound  of  wheels 
coming  through  the  woods.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  effort  the  bird  straightens  to  his  full  height 
and  appears  to  listen  for  a  reply.  Should  there 
be  no  response,  he  may  repeat  his  performance  an 
indefinite  number  of  times. 

Some  scientists  have  declared  that  all  the  bird's 
peering  about  is  merely  a  sharp  lookout  for  the 
expected  female.  I  will  go  farther  and  say  that 
it  is  of  threefold  purport  —  i.e.  to  locate  the  fe- 
male, an  approaching  rival,  or  a  skulking  peril. 
While  in  the  act  of  drumming,  the  bird  appears 
to  be  oblivious  to  everything  but  its  own  passion. 
This  is  why  it  can  be  stalked.  The  instant  the 
drumming  ceases  the  bird  seems  to  realize  that  it 
has  been  taking  chances,  so  it  carefully  scrutinizes 
every  yard  of  its  surroundings.  Let  the  stalker 
then  make  the  slightest  move  and  there  will  be 
no  more  drumming  for  some  time.  A  grouse 
flushed  directly  from  the  drumming-place  is  apt 
to  forsake  it  altogether.  My  theory  is  that  the 


Tbe  Ruffed  Grouse  115 


grouse  thoroughly  understands  the  situation ; 
that  while  he  hopes  to  see  an  admiring  hen,  or 
hens,  —  for  he's  a  regular  Turk,  —  he  knows  he 
may  see  a  man,  or  a  lynx,  or  a  fox,  or  some  other 
cold-hearted  brute.  Or,  worse  yet,  one  or  other 
may  be  there  and  he  not  see  quite  soon  enough ! 
Meanwhile,  the  hen,  or  hens,  have  been  listening 
to  the  drumming  and  admiring  the  performer. 
They  are  somewhat  like  some  larger  hens,  inas- 
much as  a  bold  front  compels  their  admiration ; 
also,  because  they  know  that  a  shy,  timorous, 
mind-all-ready-made-up-but-it's-so-sudden  sort  of  a 
policy  is  the  deadliest.  So,  being  wise  virgins 
possessed  of  a  few  shares  of  standard  oil,  they're 
in  no  great  hurry.  Eventually  he  weds  the  lot, 
if  there  be  a  lot,  conducts  a  harem  for  a  time  — 
then  deserts  them,  one  and  all. 

Should  the  response  to  the  drummer's  effort 
be  a  male,  there  speedily  is  trouble.  The  old, 
old  struggle  for  the  survival  of  the  fittest  is  — 
well  —  fit !  They  go  together  with  all  the  dash 
and  spirit  one  would  expect  of  such  game,  strong 
fellows,  and  frequently  the  battle  is  furious  and 
prolonged.  Out  of  a  maelstrom  of  whirling  fight, 
one  presently  emerges,  minus  some  blood  and 
feathers,  but  plus  some  useful  knowledge,  and 
the  subsequent  proceedings  in  that  woody  Eden 
interest  him  no  more. 

The  duties  of   choosing  a   site   for  the   nest, 


n6  The  Grouse  Family 

attending  to  the  slight  construction  thereof,  and 
hatching  the  eggs,  devolves  upon  the  female. 
There  is  some  difference  of  opinion  about  this, 
but  I  am  convinced  that,  as  a  rule,  the  male 
deserts  his  mate  so  soon  as  the  breeding  season 
is  over.  It  may  be  that  when,  as  sometimes 
happens,  there  are  but  one  male  and  one  female 
in  a  certain  cover,  they  remain  together,  but  I 
have  yet  to  flush  two  old  birds  with  a  brood  of 
chicks.  The  nest  usually  is  well  concealed,  but 
there  are  exceptions  to  this.  It  may  be  under  a 
log  or  an  overhanging  rock,  between  the  roots  of 
a  stump,  or  tree,  in  a  thicket,  a  fallen  top,  under 
a  brush-pile,  or  exposed  in  an  open  spot.  As  an 
architect  the  grouse  has  no  claim  to  distinction; 
a  slight  hollow  scratched  in  the  ground  and 
roughly  lined  with  leaves,  grass,  or  pine  needles, 
is  all  it  requires.  The  eggs  vary  through  shades 
of  buff  with  brown  spots.  The  number  ranges 
from  eight  to  about  a  dozen.  The  period  of  in- 
cubation begins  about  the  first  of  May  and  lasts 
nearly  four  weeks.  The  hen  sticks  very  close  to 
the  nest,  and  if  driven  away  seldom  goes  farther 
than  is  absolutely  necessary  for  her  own  safety. 
The  young  run  as  soon  as  the  down  on  them  is 
dry.  They  are  very  active  and  able  to  hide  in 
the  merest  trifle  of  cover. 

The   hen   grouse    is  a  model   mother.     Until 
the  young  are  sufficiently  strong  to  roost  upon 


Tbe  Ruffed  Grouse  117 

branches,  she  covers  them  as  a  domestic  hen 
covers  her  chicks.  Young  grouse,  like  young 
turkeys,  cannot  stand  a  wetting;  this  the  mother 
knows,  and  she  is  careful  not  to  lead  them  through 
wet  cover.  At  the  first  sign  of  rain  she  calls  them 
up,  never  herself  heeding  a  liberal  spattering  so 
long  as  the  chicks  are  dry  under  her.  Up  to  a 
certain  age  young  grouse  are  the  most  delicate  of 
all  game,  and,  could  the  figures  be  obtained,  it  is 
extremely  likely  they  would  show  a  loss  of  at 
least  one-third  of  the  young  before  they  had 
attained  the  size  of  quail.  This,  of  course,  tak- 
ing the  average  for  a  number  of  seasons.  Five 
consecutive  favorable  seasons,  />.  dry  from  the 
hatching  time  till  the  chicks  are  past  the  critical 
stage,  would  mean  a  grand  lot  of  birds.  The 
conditions  reversed  would  surely  mean  a  marked 
scarcity.  There  is  a  species  of  tick  which  plays 
the  mischief ;  and  I  suspect  that  a  disease  closely 
akin  to  the  roup  which  occasionally  prevails 
among  young  poultry  is  accountable  for  a  deal 
of  the  losses.  As  is  true  of  many  other  birds, 
when  once  the  grouse  has  run  the  gauntlet  of 
infantile  disorders,  it  becomes  as  hardy  and 
rugged  a  bird  as  can  be  found.  The  food  con- 
sists of  "  mast,"  many  sorts  of  wild  berries,  wild 
grapes,  the  foliage  of  wintergreen,  buttercups, 
partridge-berry,  clover,  and  other  growths,  grass- 
hoppers, crickets,  and,  no  doubt,  other  insects. 


n8  The  Grouse  Family 

During  winter  the  principal  food  is  the  buds  of 
birch  and  other  trees.  Not  infrequently  it  resorts 
to  the  leaves  of  the  alder,  which  impart  to  the 
flesh  a  pronounced  bitter  taste.  Birds  so  fed  and 
left  long  undrawn  are  apt  to  prove  poisonous  to 
persons  eating  freely  of  them.  The  young  feed 
upon  insects  and  various  tender  growths. 

When  a  brood  is  half  grown  it  changes  its 
roosting  habit  and  takes  to  the  trees,  those  of 
medium  size  and  overgrown  with  grape-vines 
being  most  favored.  About  this  time,  too,  the 
young  acquire  the  treeing  habit,  and  ever  after, 
when  flushed  by  a  dog,  they  are  apt  to  tree.  The 
writer  had  a  peculiar  experience  with  a  brood 
about  the  size  of  quail.  He  was  fishing,  and  had 
for  a  comrade  a  young  pointer  dog,  all  liver  color. 
This  pup,  as  pups  will,  found  fishing  not  suffi- 
ciently strenuous  to  hold  his  attention  for  long, 
so  to  help  pass  time  he  started  a  lone-hand  raid 
of  an  adjacent  thicket.  A  sudden  tremendous 
uproar  attracted  my  attention,  and,  to  my  aston- 
ishment, I  saw  an  old  hen  grouse  vigorously  be- 
laboring the  bewildered  pup  with  her  wings  and 
giving  him  a  piece  of  her  mind  in  a  torrent  of 
cacklings,  such  as  I  had  never  dreamed  a  grouse 
capable  of  uttering.  The  poor  pup,  after  first 
trying  to  make  a  point,  and  then  to  grab  her, 
finally  bolted  in  dismay.  She  followed  him  for 
about  a  dozen  yards,  beating  him  about  the  rump 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  119 

with  her  wings,  which  kept  up  a  thunderous 
whirring.  She  acted  exactly  like  a  wrathful  old 
fowl,  and  the  pup  like  a  condemned  fool.  The 
utter  discomfiture  of  the  pup,  the  abruptness  of 
the  interruption,  and  the  astounding  valor  of  the 
old  hen  gave  me  temporary  paresis,  for,  in  trying 
to  see  a  little  more,  I  forgot  where  I  was,  stepped 
off  my  rock,  and  brought  up  in  about  four  feet 
of  ice-cold  water. 

To  first  swear,  then  secure  the  pup  and  lie  low 
for  developments,  was  a  natural  sequence.  The 
young  were  in  the  trees,  several  of  them  visible 
after  a  cautious  scrutiny,  and  in  about  ten  min- 
utes there  sounded  a  low,  musical  chirruping  very 
like  the  sound  emitted  by  a  red  squirrel  between 
the  coughing,  sputtering  notes.  Presently  one 
and  another  of  the  young  responded  with  cries 
like  those  of  very  young  turkeys ;  then  one  after 
another  fluttered  down  and  ran  to  their  anxious 
mother. 

An  interesting  query  is,  for  what  did  the 
mother  mistake  the  dog?  for  I  am  convinced 
that  she  had  no  idea  what  he  was.  Possibly  she 
took  him  for  a  fox,  or  a  wolf,  for  surely  her  in- 
stinct would  have  warned  her  not  to  try  such 
tactics  with  one  of  the  cat  kind,  any  of  which 
almost  certainly  would  have  destroyed  her  with 
one  sweep  of  a  nimble  paw.  A  possible  solution 
is  that  she  did  not  at  all  understand  the  silent, 


120  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

halting,  uniformly  colored  enemy,  and  bravely 
took  the  chances  of  a  desperate  bluff.  This  inci- 
dent is  one  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of 
the  devotion  of  the  hen  which  the  writer  can 
recall.  The  usual  course  of  the  mother  bird  is 
to  throw  herself  in  the  path  of  the  intruder,  and, 
by  simulating  lameness,  to  draw  him  after  her 
and  away  from  the  hiding  chicks.  This  pretty 
deceit  is  one  of  the  most  touching  sights  which 
reward  the  observant  bird-lover. 

The  treeing  habit  of  the  grouse,  once  a 
great  protection  to  it,  is  now  its  bane.  This  is 
an  interesting  point,  as  it  strikingly  illustrates 
the  folly  of  sticking  to  old-fashioned  methods 
after  improvements  have  been  introduced,  and 
also  that  folly  of  follies  —  underestimating  the 
ability  of  one's  opponent,  ^ons  on  aeons  ago 
the  grouse  developed  the  trick  of  taking  to  a 
tree  to  avoid  peril  terrestrial,  and  no  doubt  it 
considered  itself  a  very  smart  bird.  At  that  time, 
strangely  enough,  its  two  winning  cards  in  the 
game  of  life  and  death  were  taking  to  a  tree  and 
leaving  a  tree.  Being  a  bud-eater  at  certain  sea- 
sons, the  grouse  naturally  sought  the  trees  for 
food.  Among  the  branches  it  was  comparatively 
safe  from  quadrupeds,  although  some  of  its  foes 
were  clever  climbers.  But  there  were  others,  — 
the  birds  of  prey,  —  and  to  avoid  these  the  grouse 
went  back  to  earth.  So  it  played  its  game  of 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  121 

going  to  the  trees  to  escape  its  four-footed  foes, 
and  dropping  to  the  rocks  and  brush  to  baffle 
winged  ones,  and  this  must  have  answered  very 
well  for  a  long  time,  for  the  grouse  flourished 
and  waxed  fat.  His  one  human  foe  was  then  an 
Indian,  clever  with  bow  and  arrow  and  snares; 
but  still  the  treeing  trick  was  useful,  for  good 
arrows  were  easily  lost  if  shot  upward  among 
trees ;  the  grouse  was  comparatively  small  game, 
while  an  Indian  hated  to  make  arrows  as  he  hated 
labor  in  any  form.  But  the  old-fashioned  firearm 
eventually  became  common,  and  at  once  the 
grouse's  erstwhile  strong  point  became  its  deadly 
weakness. 

No  doubt  birds  that  were  once  wounded  in 
trees  learned  to  trust  to  their  wings  when  next 
man  approached,  for  to-day  the  grouse,  except  in 
remote  corners,  will  seldom  tree  unless  the  man 
be  accompanied  by  a  dog.  A  grouse  educated 
on  modern  principles  —  i.e.  one  that  has  enjoyed 
the  questionable  advantage  of  feeling  lead  driven 
through  some  part  of  it  —  seldom  offers  a  second 
fair  chance ;  but  all  are  not  so  wise.  To  most 
of  them  the  dog  is  merely  the  old  four-footed 
peril  —  a  foxlike  creature  unable  to  climb,  against 
which  a  tree  is  an  absolute  safeguard.  Naturally 
enough  the  first  impulse  is  to  at  once  take  the 
oft-tried  remedy  for  a  well-understood  evil.  Hence 
we  see  birds  tree  above  the  dog  and  remain  calmly 


122  The  Grouse  Family 

looking  down  at  the  intruder,  and  even  moving 
upon  the  limbs  as  though  only  slightly  interested 
in  the  whole  business.  But  let  the  man  follow 
the  dog,  and  a  change  takes  place.  One  of  two 
things  happens  —  either  the  grouse  leave  the 
tree,  or  they  stretch  to  their  full  height  and  re- 
main bolt  upright  and  perfectly  motionless. 
When  so  posed  only  an  experienced  eye  can 
readily  detect  them,  for  they  would  easily  pass 
for  so  many  decayed  and  broken  stubs.  Even 
the  skilled  sportsman,  who  knows  this  habit  of 
the  bird,  and  who  is  warned  by  the  actions  of  the 
dog  that  the  game  is  somewhere  in  a  tree  imme- 
diately above,  frequently  has  difficulty  in  locating 
the  quarry.  His  safest  plan  is  first  to  let  his  eye 
follow  the  trunk  to  the  top,  as  the  probability  is 
that  the  game  will  be  perched  near  the  trunk.  If 
this  fails,  the  next  thing  is  to  begin  at  the  lowest 
limb  and  examine  it  from  the  trunk  to  the  tip, 
and  repeat  the  process  limb  after  limb.  This,  of 
course,  must  eventually  locate  the  bird ;  but  the 
sportsman  will  do  well  to  keep  his  gun  ready  for 
swift  action.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  bird 
seems  to  know  the  instant  it  is  observed ;  then  it 
at  once  takes  wing.  A  flushed  grouse  is  apt  to 
fly  straight  away  from  the  rising-point  and  in 
ordinary  woods  not  very  far.  Should  the  bird 
keep  low,  the  chances  are  that  it  will  pitch  upon 
the  ground;  but  if  the  last  view  of  it  shows  a 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  123 

raising  of  the  line  of  flight,  it  probably  means 
that  the  bird  has  gone  to  a  tree.  A  thorough 
scrutiny  of  the  trees  about  where  the  bird  dis- 
appeared is  then  worth  while. 

The  question  of  the  propriety  of  shooting  a 
treed  grouse  must  be  left  to  the  discretion  and 
sportsmanship  of  the  individual  in  pursuit.  The 
writer  is  a  thorough  believer  in  pure  sport  for 
sport's  sake;  he  prides  himself  upon  having  a 
clean  record  from  boyhood  onward,  and  he 
frankly  admits  having  shot  many  a  treed  grouse, 
and  this  after  he  was  considered  a  very  fair  shot. 
While  caring  nothing  for  the  dead  bird  except  as 
a  dainty  fare  for  himself,  or  a  gift  to  a  friend,  he 
never  hesitates  over  trimming  the  head  off  a 
perching  bird  whenever,  in  his  judgment,  the 
conditions  forbid  the  hope  of  anything  like  a  fair 
flying  shot.  So  long  as  the  nature  of  the  cover 
offers  a  reasonably  open  field,  true  sportmanship 
would  insist  upon  the  bird  being  given  perhaps  a 
bit  the  best  of  the  odds ;  otherwise,  it  is  merely 
a  problem  of  how  badly  one  needs  that  particular 
grouse.  The  same  thing  will  apply  to  a  bird  seen 
running — by  the  way,  none  too  easy  a  proposition. 
Very  often  in  thickets  such  shots  are  quite  pardon- 
able. Those  who  care  for  the  small  rifle  may  find 
pleasure  in  using  it  on  treed  birds ;  yet  it  is  ques- 
tionable if  such  shooting  is  true  sport,  for  even 
an  ordinary  performer  would  seldom  fail  at  such 


124  The  Grouse  Family 

short  range.  He  will,  of  course,  only  aim  at  the 
head  or  neck,  for  any  duffer  might  hit  the  big 
body  and  spoil  meat. 

Apropos  of  the  rifle,  two  peculiar  shots  are 
worth  mentioning.  A  party  of  us  were  in  the 
Mattawa  moose  country.  The  particular  day  was 
Sunday,  and  the  camp  rule  was  the  only  right 
one.  We  were  lounging  about  on  the  moss,  and 
I  happened  to  be  oiling  a  Winchester  45-90. 
Suddenly  the  guide  pointed  to  a  big  hemlock 
about  fifty  yards  away  and  remarked:  "See  the 
sunlight  on  that  fur  —  it's  a  marten."  Amid  the 
blackness  of  the  centre  of  the  hemlock  was  a  sin- 
gle splash  of  light,  and  it  glowed  upon  what 
appeared  to  be  red  fur. 

"And  the  Sabbath  law  is?"  I  asked  the 
judge. 

"  To  plug  all  martens  every  day  —  to  shoot 
from  where  you  sit,  and  to  allow  the  court  to 
shoot  one  deer  in  the  water  if  you  miss.  So 
mote  it  be !  "  was  his  Honor's  decision. 

At  the  report  the  marten  shook  loose  about  a 
peck  of  feathers,  and  went  roaring  away  to  a 
near-by  ravine,  shedding  more  feathers  every  yard. 
Before  it  reached  cover  the  wings  were  set,  and 
it  slanted  down  at  an  amazing  pace. 

The  guide  chased  after,  while  we  stared  at  each 
other,  and  the  court  muttered  an  astonished 
"Well  — I'll  — be  — d !"  Soon  the  guide 


Tbe  Ruffed  Grouse  125 

came  back  with  a  bobtailed  grouse,  which  he 
passed  round  for  inspection.  The  big  ball  had 
hit  it  squarely  in  the  rump,  carrying  away  inches  of 
the  back  and  most  of  the  intestines ;  the  legs  hung 
by  mere  shreds  of  skin  and  flesh,  yet  the  bird  had 
flown  fully  twenty  yards,  and  finished  its  trip  upon 
dead,  set  wings. 

The  other  shot  was  different,  but  with  the  same 
rifle,  which,  by  the  way,  had  a  tinkered  stock  with 
a  shotgun  plate  for  quick  work.  The  party  had 
insisted  upon  one  day's  hounding,  and  knowing 
my  penchant  for  still  hunting,  had  sent  me  off  to 
a  small  island,  a  mere  rock,  where,  as  the  judge 
said,  "  It  would  be  good  and  still  all  day."  The 
chances  were  a  thousand  to  one  against  any  deer 
coming  to  that  rock,  but  they  had  been  known  to 
take  that  course,  so  there  was  need  of  a  guard. 
For  hours  there  was  nothing  doing.  The  dogs 
were  clanging  through  the  woods  far  to  the  east- 
ward, while  a  lazy  man  lay  and  stared  at  the 
dreamy  landscape,  or  played  with  the  wintergreen 
which  matted  his  couch. 

At  last  something  did  come  —  a  big  grouse, 
presumably  after  wintergreen.  He  lit  on  a  short 
stub,  at  once  saw  the  enemy,  and  promptly  drew 
himself  up  and  stiffened.  He  never  moved  while 
the  rifle  was  brought  to  the  ready,  then  he  sud- 
denly discovered  gold  quartz,  and  set  off  to  file 
his  claim,  or  something.  He  went  as  only  a 


The  Grouse  Family 

scared  grouse  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  cover  can 
go,  and  the  ball  caught  him  fair  in  the  back  when 
he  had  travelled  about  forty  yards.  Then  the 
man  behind  the  gun  stared  at  the  bird  in  the 
water,  and  wondered  why  Fate  had  seen  fit  to 
weave  that  particular  mesh,  why  the  ball  had  hap- 
pened to  touch  the  mark,  and  why  there  was  more 
genuine  satisfaction  over  the  kill  than  there  would 
have  been  had  the  mark  been  a  buck. 

It  sometimes  appears  as  though  the  grouse  yet 
preserved  a  trace  of  an  old-time  migratory  instinct 
which  impels  it  about  mid-autumn  to  wander  far 
from  its  usual  haunts.  A  paragraph  referring  to 
the  capture  or  sight  of  a  live  bird  in  the  centre  of 
some  large  town  or  city  may  be  found  in  many  a 
paper,  and  always  about  the  end  of  September  or 
early  in  October.  Birds  which  have  struck  the 
wires  above  busy  streets  are  not  unfrequently 
picked  up,  and  these  things  go  to  show  that  some 
grouse  are  given  to  taking  long  night  flights. 
The  writer's  old  home  lies  within  the  limits  of  a 
small  city,  and  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
nearest  possible  grouse  cover,  yet  he  has  several 
times  seen,  and  more  than  once  shot,  grouse  (each 
time  a  lone  bird)  in  his  garden.  Once  a  big  cock 
smashed  through  a  pane  of  glass  and  took  refuge 
under  a  parlor  sofa.  There  were  many  specimens 
of  stuffed  game  in  that  room,  and  if  the  glass- 
smashing  bird  yearned  for  a  place  among  the 


Tbe  Ruffed  Grouse  127 

chosen,  he  had  his  desire.  One  of  the  grouse  in 
that  collection,  an  unusually  large  and  very  brown 
specimen,  has  large  ruffs  of  a  lightish  chocolate 
color  instead  of  the  usual  black. 

Before  leaving  the  question  of  partial  migration, 
a  reference  to  some  peculiar  encounters  with 
grouse  in  town  may  not  be  out  of  place.  Just 
before  the  writer  bade  farewell  to  his  "  teens,"  he 
and  his  chosen  comrades  played  ball  enthusiasti- 
cally and  fairly  well.  The  best  all-round  player 
was  a  small,  wiry  chap  whose  specialty  was  catch- 
ing. Upon  wet  days  the  chimney  swifts  used  to 
skim  low  through  the  streets  and  one  time  this 
chap  made  a  fair  catch  of  one.  The  shock  killed 
the  swift,  but  that  didn't  matter.  Shortly  after 
the  writer  also  caught  a  swift  and  broke  its  neck 
in  so  doing.  That  didn't  matter  either;  but  what 
did  matter  was  that  two  young  prigs  went  strut- 
ting about  as  the  great  and  only  bird-catchers,  and 
naturally  as  rivals.  Some  time  after  the  writer 
had  occasion  to  interview  his  rival  and  he  found 
him  sunning  himself  on  the  roof  of  a  shed.  As 
the  conversation  opened,  something  whizzed  above 
the  roof,  the  rival  made  a  leap  and  a  grab,  and 
landed  on  his  head  in  a  manure-pile.  Clutched 
in  his  fist  was  a  big  piece  of  skin  and  a  lot  of 
feathers  which  clearly  belonged  to  a  ruffed 
grouse  —  the  poor  bird  buzzed  on  and  in  its  fright 
darted  into  a  shed,  where  it  was  later  found  and 


128  The  Grouse  Family 

mercifully  despatched.  That  settled  the  rivalry. 
Anybody  who  could  grab  ruffed  grouse  in  this 
parabolic  manner  and  land  soft,  clearly  outclassed 
the  writer,  and  the  citizens  hardened  their  hearts 
against  him  amid  revilings.  It  was  indeed  a 
bitter  dose  to  swallow !  Years  later,  when  the 
writer  had  whiskers,  he  was  turning  a  corner  in 
the  same  town,  when  something  like  a  brown 
shell  came  humming  by.  A  naturally  quick  hand 
had  gained  speed  from  sparring,  and  out  it  flashed. 
There  was  an  amazing  shock,  but  it  closed  tightly 
on  a  grouse,  and  it  made  the  bones  crack  before 
it  let  go  too  ! 

R-e-v-e-n-g-e  !  And  hey  for  the  rival,  at  last  out- 
done !  That  worthy  examined  the  bird,  demanded 
the  story  of  its  capture,  listened  attentively, 
spat,  returned  the  bird,  spat  again,  and  crisply 
remarked:  "Yer  a  liar!  I  sold  that  bird  to 
Blank  four  days  ago ! " 

Some  fellows  are  simply  insufferable ! 

After  the  young  grouse  have  reached  maturity, 
they  will  remain  with  the  mother  throughout  the 
winter  unless  too  much  harassed.  The  old 
males  join  the  broods  late  in  the  fall,  and  each  lot 
selects  its  winter  range.  Before  the  severe  cold 
and  deep  snow  they  are  apt  to  favor  high-lying 
cover,  growths  of  beeches,  to  which  the  leaves 
cling  long,  brier  patches,  and  brushy  ground.  At 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  129 

this  time  they  frequently  roost  in  the  trees, 
especially  in  vine-encumbered  ones.  After  the 
winter  has  fairly  set  in  and  the  snow  becomes 
deep,  most  of  the  birds  retire  to  lowlands,  such  as 
heavily  timbered  swamps  and  extensive  growths 
of  tall  saplings.  From  these  sanctuaries  they 
forage  the  surrounding  more  open  country,  speed- 
ing back  to  the  heavier  cover  when  alarmed.  In 
regions  of  heavy  snow,  the  birds  creep  into  low, 
snug  growths  and  often  allow  themselves  to  be 
deeply  covered.  They  also  never  hesitate  over 
plunging  into  a  drift  and  burrowing  under  to  the 
warmest  of  quarters.  The  track  and  the  holes 
made  by  the  bird  entering  and  leaving  the  snow 
have  been  noted  by  most  of  the  sportsmen  who 
go  afield  very  late  in  the  season.  It  has  been 
claimed  that  many  grouse  fall  victims  to  crust,  as 
do  the  quail.  Proof  of  this  I  have  never  seen  in 
spite  of  much  winter  shooting,  but  I  have 
repeatedly  seen  the  holes  in  firm  crust  through 
which  the  grouse  had  passed  to  freedom.  It  may 
be  that  my  experience  has  been  an  exceptional 
one,  but  I  have  never  found  a  dead  grouse  in  the 
woods  that  had  not  been  either  snared  or  shot. 

The  flight  of  a  big,  strong  grouse  is  the  per- 
sonification of  headlong  dash  with  power.  It 
rises  with  a  sudden,  thunderous  whirring  which 
never  fails  to  stir  the  very  cockles  of  a  veteran's 
heart,  and  which  plays  the  deuce  with  the  nerves 


130  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

of  a  novice.  There  is  no  drag  or  hesitancy  about 
it,  the  bird  gets  to  top  speed  within  a  few  yards, 
and  where  there  is  thick  cover  —  characteristic 
grouse  cover  —  he  plunges  for  the  thickest  of  it 
like  a  cannon-ball.  One  might  be  pardoned  for 
marvelling  how  the  bird  manages  to  escape  colli- 
sions with  close-standing  trunks  or  heavy  boughs, 
but  it  does,  and  whizzes  away  with  a  neatness  and 
despatch  positively  wonderful  to  behold.  Yet, 
fast  as  it  goes,  the  bird  has  perfect  control  over 
its  course,  and  never  forgets  to  take  advantage  of 
the  first  convenient  shelter.  It  will  whisk  behind 
the  nearest  trunk  and  then  dart  away  with  that 
trunk  exactly  in  a  line  between  itself  and  the  gun. 
Grouse  unnumbered  have  been  saved  by  this 
clever  trick,  and  tons  of  shot  have  been  stopped 
too  soon  by  the  saving  trees.  This  habit  of  dodg- 
ing behind  shot-proof  obstacles  is  peculiar  to  the 
ruffed  grouse  ;  whether  it  be  the  result  of  educa- 
tion, or  is  purely  instinctive,  is  an  open  question. 
Whichever  it  be,  it  frequently  is  possible  to  out- 
manoeuvre it  by  going  up  to  the  flush  a  bit  to  one 
side  of  the  pointing  dog,  instead  of  directly  in 
his  rear  as  most  men  do.  The  partial  flanking 
movement,  in  the  majority  of  instances,  will 
insure  a  more  or  less  quartering  shot  —  a  bit 
more  difficult  than  a  straightaway  drive,  but  less 
liable  to  interference. 

That  the  shooting  of  this  bird  is  difficult  goes 


with* 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  131 


without  saying,  yet  the  fault  of  the  great  majority 
of  misses  lies  with  the  shooter.  The  trouble 
with  most  men  is  that  they  shoot  too  quick. 
The  grouse  has  a  knack  of  springing  precisely 
when  and  where  he  is  not  expected.  This, 
coupled  with  the  roaring  flush,  shakes  any  except 
the  service-steadied  nerve  —  usual  result,  some- 
thing closely  akin  to  blind  snap-shooting.  But 
the  true  cause  of  perhaps  half  the  misses  is 
undershooting.  In  most  cases  the  bird  is  rising 
and  rushing  forward  at  the  same  time  ;  the  broad 
tail  with  its  conspicuous  black  band  catches  the 
eye,  and  the  gun  is  held  on  the  tail  —  which 
means  just  under  the  bird,  instead  of  where  it 
should  be,  a  couple  of  inches  or  more  above  the 
rising  back.  The  tail,  too,  helps  a  man  to  miss 
squarely  crossing  shots  by  increasing  the  appar- 
ent length  of  the  bird.  This  causes  one  to  think 
he  is  centring  the  bird,  when  in  reality  he  is 
centring  the  length  of  the  mark  from  bill  to  tail- 
tip.  This  means  that  he  is  covering  the  after 
portion  of  the  body,  when  he  should  be  slightly 
ahead  of  the  region  of  the  crop.  This  difference 
of  several  inches  actual  measurement  is  enough 
to  place  the  bird  without  the  deadly  zone  of  the 
charge  and  within  the  zone  of  scattered  pellets, 
even  at  very  short  range.  Sportsmen  who  have 
tried  the  pheasants  of  Great  Britain,  or  the  varie- 
ties of  the  pheasant  which  have  been  acclimatized 


1 32  The  Grouse  Family 

in  this  country,  understand  how  much  a  conspic- 
uous tail  may  mislead  an  eye  trained  to  accuracy 
on  short-tailed  game.  The  writer  is  a  stanch 
believer  in  the  value  of  holding  well  ahead  of  all 
angling  and  crossing  game  of  whatever  species. 
Not  one  in  one  hundred  is  missed  through  over- 
leading,  for  even  when  the  gun  is  inches  too  far 
in  advance,  a  single  diverging  pellet  may  yet 
prove  deadly,  because,  if  it  touches  any  part  of 
the  quarry,  that  part  is  apt  to  be  of  the  head,  the 
neck,  the  region  of  the  heart,  or  a  wing. 

So  many  writers  have  referred  to  the  noisy 
flush  of  the  ruffed  grouse,  that  the  belief  is 
prevalent  that  the  bird  always  rises  upon  loud- 
sounding  pinions.  This  is  erroneous.  When 
unalarmed,  the  bird  rises  without  any  noticeable 
whirring. 

SOME    GLIMPSES    OF   GROUSING 

The  best  ruffed  grouse  shooting  the  writer  has 
enjoyed  has  been  in  the  grand  covers  of  Wiscon- 
sin, Michigan,  and  western  Ontario,  the  merits 
of  the  grounds  ranking  in  order  as  named.  The 
most  difficult  sport  was  in  the  Red  River  Valley, 
the  mighty  growths  of  British  Columbia,  and  the 
mountains  of  Pennsylvania.  Let  us  take  a  peep 
at  each  in  turn. 

Imagine  a  long,  easy,  sun-kissed  slope  in  the 
most  beautiful  section  of  the  magnificent  "  Badger 


Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing  133 

state  "  —  time  mid-afternoon.  Half  of  this  slope  is 
gleaming  stubble  which  rolls  in  sleepy,  golden 
billows  to  a  strand  of  dull  crimsons  and  cooling 
bronze,  where  the  waist-high  scrub-oaks  and 
briers  and  dwarf  hazels  weave  together,  glowing 
like  some  huge  rare  rug  of  Orient  spread  over 
the  everlasting  hills.  Beyond  all  this,  stern 
ramparts  of  grim  gray  stone,  hearsed  with  som- 
bre pines,  beneath  which  trail  heavy  crimson  ban- 
ners of  creepers,  as  though  flung  earthward  in 
grief  for  the  passing  glory  of  the  year.  Misting 
it  all,  softening  where  too  harsh,  transforming 
dusk  corridors  into  silvery  reaches  of  immeasur- 
able length,  spreads  the  magic  of  Indian  sum- 
mer, as  though  Autumn  had  flung  afar  a  net  of 
shimmering  gossamer  in  a  playful  attempt  to 
bind  captive  each  giant  of  rock  and  pine. 

It  is  indeed  a  pretty  picture,  but  the  prettiest 
bit  of  all  is  in  the  foreground.  It  is  a  group 
which  well  might  startle  those  only  acquainted 
with  the  dignities  of  metropolitan  life  and  its 
surroundings.  Three  figures  compose  the  group, 
and  they  are  arranged  like  a  wedge.  The  thin 
edge  of  the  wedge  has  been  inserted  into  some  of 
the  most  picturesque  fragments  of  North  Amer- 
ica—  and  driven  home  afterward.  It  is  a  dog  — 
a  grand  white  fellow,  with  the  hall-mark  of  his 
breeding,  a  lemon  head.  Big,  and  leanly  strong, 
his  white  coat  shining  with  healthy  lustre,  his 


134  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

muscles  wirelike  from  wholesome  toil,  he  stands 
there  as  if  carved  from  yon  vein  of  snowy  marble 
gashing  the  distant  cliff. 

Yards  rearward,  at  the  right  angle  of  the  base 
of  the  wedge,  is  another  and  entirely  different 
figure.  The  coat  of  a  workmanlike  brown,  the 
intent,  half-crouching  pose,  graceful  in  many 
curves,  the  poise  of  the  perfect  head,  the  clean- 
cut  profile,  expressive  eyes,  lips  parted  in  mute 
expectancy,  complete  as  perfect  a  picture  of  — 

A  bench  winner,  did  you  say  ? 

Man !  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  She's 
worthy  of  the  bench  all  right  —  she'd  adorn  it 
too  !  but  did  I  really  describe  her  according  to 
the  pointer  standard.  Ye  gods !  well,  anyhow, 
there's  no  sense  keeping  her  standing  there. 

The  remaining  figure  looks  like  a  tramp  in  its 
dingy  garb,  but  it  feels  like  a  king  for  the  moment 
at  least.  The  apple  of  its  eye  is  the  grand  white 
dog;  the  crab-apple  of  its  other  eye  is  the  crouch- 
ing female  to  the  right ;  while  the  glory-about-to- 
be  to  both  eyes  is  yet  hidden  in  the  stubble. 

Boo-oo-oo-m  !  A  big  bird  roars  up,  and  the  man 
starts  violently  and  rocks  backward  two  inches  out 
of  plumb,  for  instead  of  the  expected  "chicken" 
he  sees  a  fantail  with  a  broad  velvet  band  which 
is  unmistakable.  The  way  that  gun  remembers 
and  gets  into  action  is  a  marvel  to  see,  and  the 
bird  goes  down,  despite  its  speed,  not  thirty-five 
yards  away. 


THE  RUFFED  GROUSE  STRUTTING 


Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing  135 

The  other  figures  stanchly  hold  their  points, 
and  a  low,  eager  whisper  says,  "  Good  —  give  it  to 
them ! " 

Boo-oo-Boo-oo-r-r  /  One,  two,  a  third,  rise  and 
rush  for  the  cover,  which  the  first  and  second 
are  doomed  never  to  reach.  The  gun  seems  to 
be  a  live  thing,  going  down,  breaking,  and  spitting 
out  empties  of  itself  and  fairly  reaching  for  more 
shells.  Then  —  Boo-oorr  !  again  and  again,  then 
a  general  explosion,  and  half  a  dozen  birds  are 
flung  into  the  air  at  once.  Hasty  fingers  work 
in  vain  this  time,  for  no  man  living  has  a  license 
to  load  after  a  ruffed  fellow  has  started.  The 
man  in  question  is  half  rattled  by  his  amazing 
good  fortune,  and  for  the  moment  he  forgets  that 
the  lemon-headed  dog  is  wise  as  serpents  are  sup- 
posed to  be,  and  that  he  is  still  propped. 

Says  the  man,  as  he  half  turns,  "  Little 
woman,  I've  shot  ruffed  grouse  from  ahem !  to 
Halifax,  but  this  is  the  first  time  ever  I  tackled 
'em  in  Paradise !  Why !  if  I'd  had  a  repeater  I 
could  have  — -  Boo-oo-oom-m  !  " 

The  white  dog  knew !  To  whirl,  to  miss  clean, 
to  try  a  desperate  chance  with  the  second  —  all 
these  were  so  easy  that  he  did  them  all  there  and 
then.  But  a  random  shot  will  kill,  etc.,  for  a  curi- 
ous thing  happened.  The  straightaway  bird  prob- 
ably had  its  head  turned  to  one  side,  for  at  the 
second  report  it  lurched  for  an  instant,  appeared 


136  The  Grouse  Family 

to  momentarily  stagger  in  its  flight,  then  up  it 
went  in  a  mighty  spiral,  as  though  boring  into 
the  blue  beyond  like  a  feathered  corkscrew. 

The  man  had  loaded  like  lightning,  and  his 
first  impulse  was  to  rush  under  and  shoot  the 
climber.  Then  he  thought  of  the  dog,  and  of 
something  else,  so  he  stood  his  ground  while  he 
and  his  comrades  stared  with  big  eyes  at  the 
strange  exhibition. 

Round  and  round  in  narrowing  circles,  higher 
and  higher,  climbed  the  stricken  thing,  the  shat- 
tered nerve  refusing  to  act,  the  blind  eyes  failing 
to  direct  as  the  game  heart  wished.  Up  and  up, 
in  smaller  and  smaller  circles,  with  fan  full- 
spread  and  whirring  wings,  it  toiled  with  nervous 
strength,  until  it  looked  like  a  golden  lark,  for  the 
old  sun  was  sorry  to  see  it  and  glorified  its  dying 
agony.  At  last  the  seemingly  small  wings  stilled 
and  set  full-spread,  the  legs  stretched  stiffly,  and 
like  a  kite  with  broken  string  it  started  earth- 
ward. 

"  I'll  catch  it,"  said  the  man,  as  he  laid  down  his 
gun  and  sped  forward  with  long  leaps.  He  did 
catch  it  without  breaking  a  feather.  He  showed 
the  woman  where  the  single  pellet  had  struck. 

"  The  rest  are  all  down  yonder  in  the  scrub, 
and  we'll  get  —  "  here  he  happened  to  glance  into 
the  woman's  eyes  and  hastily  changed  what  he 
had  intended  to  say  into,  "the  rest  some  other 


Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing  137 

time.  That  is,"  —  he  continued  (for  he  had 
learned  about  women  from  other  women),  "if 
ever  I  molest  this  lot  again." 

"Poor  thing,"  she  half  sighed,  "it  was  so  —  " 
then  she  stopped. 

"  I'll  stuff  it  for  you  myself,"  he  remarked,  as 
he  picked  up  the  gun  and  turned  homeward. 
Her  eyes  shone  with  pleasure. 

"  What  devilish  queer  things  they  are,  anyhow," 
muttered  that  same  man  to  himself  next  morning 
as  he  ploughed  into  the  brush  behind  the  white 
dog's  first  point. 

Boo-oo-om-m  I  —  Boo-oo-m  !  —  Bang ! 

"  Hi !  this  is  where  I  get  even  —  one  of  you  fan- 
tailed  fools  almost  got  me  into  trouble  yesterday," 
chuckled  the  man,  and  he  grinned  with  a  devilish 
glee. 

Along  a  certain  Wisconsin  steep  runs  a  pecul- 
iar steplike  formation  —  a  smooth  pathway  one- 
third  of  a  mile  long.  Upon  one  side  and  for 
many  feet  above  rises  a  huge  slope  of  forested 
rock,  which,  upon  the  outer  side  of  the  path,  falls 
away  into  a  dim  ravine,  so  deep  that  only  the 
tallest  of  its  tree-tops  rise  above  the  level  of  the 
path.  Viewed  from  the  end,  the  effect  is  that  of 
a  natural  picture  gallery  hung  with  many  gor- 
geous "  bits "  (where  the  creepers  and  sumach 
droop)  from  that  master-hand  of  all. 

The  ruffed  grouse  love  such  places,  as  they 


138  The  Grouse  Family 

love  the  old  logging  roads  and  ancient  trails. 
To  merely  walk  through  that  grand  corridor 
would  be  a  treat  for  any  lover  of  the  world 
beautiful;  but  to  walk  through  with  gun  at  the 
ready  and  a  grouse  apt  to  spring  any  moment, 
to  dart  into  the  corridor  and  speed  the  length  of 
it  in  full  view,  was  —  well,  it  was  one  of  those 
higher  walks  of  life  so  frequently  mentioned  in 
print,  yet  so  seldom  thoroughly  enjoyed.  That 
corridor  used  to  be  good  for  sometimes  half  a 
dozen  birds,  and  in  it,  considering  the  beauty  of 
the  surroundings  and  everything,  the  writer  en- 
joyed the  finest  grouse-shooting  he  has  ever 
known.  It  had  variety  too,  for  now  and  then  a 
wise  bird  would  go  boring  up  the  height,  or  take 
a  dive  into  the  ravine  and  fall  dead,  away  below, 
which,  of  course,  meant  a  risky  descent  and  a 
return  climb  worthy  of  a  youthful  politician,  or  a 
rib-nosed  mandrill,  or  anything  that  aspires  to 
climb. 

In  Michigan  there  is  a  region  —  the  natives 
call  it  the  "  Popples."  There  the  poplar  brush  is 
reasonable,  and  a  man  may  get  fair  chances  and 
many  of  them  before  the  sun  sinks  below  the 
black  forest  line.  In  other  places  most  of  the 
shooting  must  needs  be  done  in  the  big  woods, 
or  about  their  borders.  There  is,  or  perhaps 
there  was,  one  rare  good  bit  where  a  slashing  for 


Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing  139 

a  county  line,  or  a  road,  had  been  cut  for  miles 
through  the  woods.  The  trees  had  been  felled 
so  the  tops  lay  together,  which  formed  a  continu- 
ous brush-pile  sometimes  for  a  mile  at  a  stretch. 
At  intervals  the  land  fell  away  to  low  swampy 
expanses  bearing  much  thicket.  Along  this  line, 
especially  when  there  were  two  guns,  to  cover 
both  sides  of  the  brush,  the  shooting  used  to  be 
fine.  Frequently  one  could  see  the  grouse  mov- 
ing about  under  the  brush,  and  fifty  times  a  snap- 
shot camera  might  have  "  caught "  the  writer 
with  gun  in  left  hand  and  a  club,  or  snowball,  in 
the  right,  as  he  prepared  to  hurl  in  the  missile 
to  start  some  grouse  which  hesitated  about  leav- 
ing such  excellent  cover.  To  give  an  idea  of  the 
number  of  birds  —  one  well-remembered  day's 
bag  was  twenty-six  and  a  few  hares,  to  two  guns. 
That  day  at  least  fifty  birds  were  flushed,  the 
peculiar  cover  saving  about  half  of  them. 

The  sport  of  the  Red  River  Valley  would  be 
fine  were  it  not  for  the  nature  of  the  cover,  which, 
far  north  at  least,  is  mainly  long  slim  saplings, 
so  closely  crowded  that  free  swinging  of  the  gun 
is  impossible.  The  writer  is  a  quick  shot  and 
not  awkward  in  brush,  but  the  grouse  of  Mani- 
toba have  no  great  cause  to  regret  his  visits. 
"  What  you  think  about  it  ? "  he  once  asked  a 
quaint  old  hunter  who  was  guiding  him  in  the 


140  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

brush,  and  who  openly  yearned  for  chicken-shoot- 
ing in  the  grass,  and  who  still  further  had  an  exas- 
perating habit  of  bawling,  "  Did-you-git-h-i-m  ? " 
every  time  a  miss  occurred,  and  invariably  keeping 
silent  when  the  few  kills  were  scored. 

"  Pretty  good  —  what  there  is  of  it,"  said  the 
old  man,  and  when  asked  if  there  wasn't  enough 
of  it,  he  replied,  "  Oh,  yes,  there's  a-plenty  of  it 
—  such  as  it  is."  No  bad  description  of  the  sport 
in  these  covers. 

In  British  Columbia  the  sport,  as  found,  could 
not  compare  with  that  of  the  East.  Those  who 
know  the  wonderful  western  province  will  readily 
guess  why.  In  many  places  the  trees  almost 
rival  the  famous  big  conifers  of  California,  and 
they  are  crowded  together  as  thickly  as  it  is 
possible  for  such  mighty  trunks  to  stand.  Fre- 
quently the  lower  spaces  are  filled  with  ferns  of 
such  size  and  luxuriance  as  to  suggest  semitropic 
lands  rather  than  a  portion  of  Canada.  In  such 
cover  the  keenest  of  guns  can  do  little  or  nothing. 
The  writer  is  over  six  feet  tall,  but  in  that  cover 
he  felt  like  a  veritable  babe  in  the  wood.  The 
size  of  the  firs  was  almost  oppressive  —  but  the 
ferns — ye  gods  !  such  ferns.  In  places  they  grow 
like  the  big  western  corn,  close  and  rank,  tower- 
ing a  yard  or  more  above  one's  head.  If  any  of 
them  come  under  the  classification  of  "  maiden- 


Some  Glimpses  of  Grousing          141 

hair,"  they  certainly  would  suggest  a  lithesome 
wee  maid  of  about  the  proportions  of  Goliath  of 
Gath.  Among  them,  grouse  after  grouse  can 
buzz  away  unseen,  while,  in  addition,  the  tremen- 
dous fronds  combine  to  form  a  most  baffling 
light. 

Western  Ontario  need  not  be  dwelt  upon. 
The  country  is  very  level,  the  best  grounds  being 
moderately  open  woods,  ordinary  thickets,  brier 
patches,  and  the  brushy  beds  of  dry  creeks.  In 
the  greater  part  of  this  cover  a  quick,  good  shot 
should  gather  half  his  birds  early  in  the  season, 
and  do  better  than  that  after  the  leaves  are  down. 
As  a  whole  it  is  a  reasonably  fair  country. 

In  Pennsylvania,  however,  things  are  somewhat 
different ;  in  fact  the  mountainous  portions  of  that 
state,  much  of  it  good  grouse  country  too,  will 
tax  a  man's  strength,  wind,  and  skill  to  the  limit. 
Very  frequently  the  birds  will  be  found  high  up 
steep  hillsides,  and  when  flushed  in  such  places 
they  are  apt  to  go  plunging  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  valleys  at  an  astounding  rate.  Now,  a 
grouse  going  downhill  moves  as  if  possessed  of 
a  devil,  and  it  does  things  not  at  all  calculated  to 
shorten  its  life.  To  a  man  who  has  slowly  climbed 
the  Blue  Ridge,  who  has  reached  the  top  half 
winded,  and  acquired  a  sneaking  suspicion  that 
the  sporting  fixture  of  the  day  is  not  strictly  on 


142  The  Grouse  Family 

the  level,  the  ruffed  rascal  is  a  startling  menace 
against  the  pure  joy  of  the  great  subsequent. 

What  he  will  see  probably  will  resemble  a 
brown  streak  which  curves  over  the  rim  of  the 
height  and  fairly  sizzles  valleyward  in  a  peculiar 
zigzagging,  downward  boring,  which  he  is  apt  to 
hope  will  result  fatally,  yet  which  seldom  does. 
To  swing  a  gun  three  ways  at  once  is  a  serious 
task  for  ordinary  hands  —  in  the  writer's  opinion 
a  man-of-war  with  all  hands  busy  couldn't  do 
it  —  yet  the  hill-grouse  of  Pennsylvania  will 
unblushingly  ask  a  newcomer  to  do  this  very 
thing.  And  when  a  bird  of  chance  flies  into  the 
hail  of  lead,  one's  triumph  is  too  brief  to  talk 
about.  When  you  hit  one,  you  hit  it  fair,  and  the 
jar  lifts  it  just  enough  to  send  it  clear  of  every- 
thing, down  and  down  till  it  fetches  up  either  in 
some  impetuous  and  thoughtless  trout-stream 
which  will  rush  it  a  mile  away  before  you  can 
clamber  down  to  where  it  fell,  or  else  it  will  land 
in  some  Dutchman's  field  which  is  "posted." 
Then  you  have  to  go  home  and  learn  Dutch  be- 
fore you  can  explain  to  the  owner  of  the  land 
why  you  are  trespassing,  and  when  you  get  back 
the  late  owner's  grandson  is  working  the  farm, 
and  he  insists  that  all  claims  against  the  estate 
were  settled  by  his  father  years  before  he  died. 

Or  if,  as  sometimes  happens,  you  actually 
gather  the  bird  before  it  gets  too  high,  you  look 


Sabine's  Grouse 

up  at  the  serene  brow  of  the  hill  and  start  to 
register  a  vow  that  it  would  be  sacrilege  to  re- 
invade  that  lofty,  holy  calm.  Before  you  are  half 
through  registering,  you  suddenly  remember  that 
the  lunch  is  up  there,  alongside  of  a  spring,  that 
the  flask  is  cooling  in  the  limpid  depths.  Then  a 
friendly  Dutchman  appears,  greets  you  pleasantly, 
and  tells  you  there  are  plenty  of  grouse  up  there, 
adding  as  an  inducement,  that  you  can  see  ever 
so  far  south,  the  great  storied  ground  —  the  battle- 
fields. Surely  you.  want  to  see  the  battlefields  ? 
If  you  don't  kill  him  on  the  spot,  you  look  him 
squarely  in  the  eye  and  in  the  smooth,  convincing 
tone  of  a  steamboat's  siren  you  say :  "  No,  sir ! 
I  don't  want  to  see  any  battlefields  —  War  —  is 
—  hel-1-1-1 !" 

Of  course  all  Pennsylvania  isn't  on  edge.  There 
are  noble  valleys  and  grand  interspaces,  but  the 
higher  form  of  sport  quite  naturally  is  on  top  of 
the  hills.  A  chemical  analysis  of  the  writer's 
record  there  might  read  :  lead,  in  paying  quanti- 
ties ;  saltpetre,  abundant ;  language,  rich ;  slaugh- 
ter, a  trace. 

SABINE'S  GROUSE 

(j5.  u.  sabini) 

Adult  male  and  female  —  Upper  parts,  mostly  dark,  rusty  chestnut, 
with  black  mottling;  rump  and  upper  tail-coverts  grayish  in 
many  specimens ;  flanks,  rusty,  barred  with  black ;  tail,  deep 
rust  color,  with  irregular  black  bars,  and  tipped  with  gray ;  sub- 


144  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

terminal  band,  black,  with  bar  of  gray  above ;  under  tail-coverts, 
orange,  barred  with  black  and  V-shaped  white  mark  at  tip; 
feathers  of  thigh,  brownish.  Total  length,  about  17^  inches; 
wings,  7  £ ;  tail,  6|.  Habitat  —  Coast  range  of  mountains,  from 
northern  British  Columbia  to  California. 

As  will  be  noticed  in  the  measurements, 
Sabine's,  or  the  Oregon  grouse,  is  a  trifle  larger 
than  its  better-known  relation  of  the  East.  To 
give  honor  where  'tis  due,  this  bird  is  also  the 
handsomest  of  all  ruffed  grouse,  the  rich,  reddish 
tone  of  its  plumage  being  warmer  and  more  pleas- 
ing than  the  grayish  cast  of  the  other.  I  have 
shot  this  bird  at  a  dozen  or  more  points  in  British 
Columbia,  and  found  its  habits  to  be  the  same  as 
those  of  its  relatives  of  seldom-disturbed  sections 
of  Maine  and  the  Canadian  provinces.  The  food 
consists  of  insects,  seeds,  berries,  leaves,  and  buds. 
It  is,  as  a  rule,  excellent  eating,  but  occasionally 
the  flesh  has  an  unpleasant  flavor  owing  to  some 
special  diet.  The  nest,  eggs,  and  young  resemble 
those  of  B.  umbellus.  Owing  to  the  nature  of  the 
cover  of  the  west  coast,  Sabine's  grouse  seldom 
affords  much  sport,  the  majority  of  the  birds 
which  reach  the  table  being  trapped. 

THE    CANADIAN    RUFFED    GROUSE 

(B.  u.  t ogata) 

While  our  highest  scientific  authorities  have 
agreed  to  consider  this  bird  a  subspecies  of  the 


The  Canadian  Ruffed  Grouse         145 

ruffed  grouse,  the  writer  confesses  his  inability  to 
distinguish  between  the  two  birds,  either  by  a 
grayer  cast  of  plumage,  measurements,  or  for  that 
matter  by  any  reliable  marking  or  lack  of  mark- 
ing. He  has  shot  hundreds  of  them,  all  told, 
which  were  natives  of  every  Canadian  province 
except  one,  and  he  could  no  more  swear  to  their 
identity  as  B.  u.  togata,  as  distinct  from  B.  um- 
bellus,  than  he  could  swear  how  many  times  they 
had  been  missed  before  he  happened  to  hold  on 
the  right  spot.  An  open  confession  is  good  for 
the  soul,  and  he  will  further  confess  that  he 
believes  the  shrewdest  bird-sharp  of  them  all 
couldn't  tell  which  from  tother,  not  even  if  he 
first  picked  them  feather  by  feather  and  then  ate 
them  at  his  scientific  ease. 

As  chief  magistrate  pro  tern.,  I  have  sentenced 
grouse  to  be  shot,  hung,  drawn  (both  ways),  and 
quartered  (halved  is  better  as  it  insures  a  squarer 
deal  in  the  matter  of  dressing) ;  I  have  bagged 
"smoky  tufts,"  black  tufts,  brown  tufts,  and  no 
tufts ;  gray  tails,  grayish  brown  tails,  and  reddish 
brown  tails  ;  I  have  had  all  but  one  of  them  in  the 
same  bag,  and  killed  a  brown  tail  with  one  barrel 
and  a  gray  tail  with  the  other ;  and  after  a  careful 
consideration  of  the  case  my  decision  is,  "  The 
ruffed  grouse  is  subject  to  considerable  variation 
in  plumage,  said  variation  not  being  thoroughly 
understood  by  this  or  any  other  court." 


146  The  Grouse  Family 


THE  GRAY  RUFFED  GROUSE 

(B.  u.  Mmbelloides) 

In  the  Rocky  Mountain  region,  from  Colorado, 
through  western  Dakota,  Montana,  Idaho,  and 
British  Columbia,  to  the  Yukon  valley  in  Alaska, 
is  found  this  subspecies  of  the  ruffed  grouse.  It 
may  readily  be  distinguished  from  B.  umbellus 
by  its  smaller  size  and  the  pronounced  grayness 
of  the  ground  color  of  the  plumage.  While  it 
appears  to  prefer  the  dense  cover  of  the  banks  of 
streams  and  slight  elevations,  it  has  been  taken 
far  up  the  sides  of  the  loftiest  peaks  —  as  high  as 
nine  or  ten  thousand  feet.  Its  favorite  food  is  the 
buds  of  the  spruce,  which  impart  to  the  flesh  a 
flavor  which  might  appeal  to  the  palate  of  an 
eastern  spruce  gum  chewer,  but  which  signally 
fails  to  hold  the  appreciative  attention  of  an 
epicure,  unless  he  also  happens  to  be  a  lost 
prospector  keen  for  a  "  grub-stake."  The  average 
length  of  this  bird  is  about  \\\  inches;  wing  7^; 
tail,  6. 

I  have  never  shot  this  bird.  The  few  specimens 
which  I  have  seen  and  handled  in  the  flesh  were 
brought  aboard  the  tug  upon  which,  with  friends 
interested  in  timber,  I  penetrated  some  of  the 
fiord-like  sections  of  the  northern  coast  of  British 
Columbia. 


The  Dusky  Grouse  147 


THE   DUSKY   GROUSE 
(Dendragapus  obscurus) 

Adult  male  —  Forehead,  dull  rufous  ;  back  of  head,  brownish  black, 
with  rusty  markings,  or  all  slate  color ;  back  of  neck  and  upper 
parts,  a  mixture  of  blackish  brown,  lighter  brown,  and  gray,  fre- 
quently mottled;  scapulars  streaked  with  white  along  shafts; 
white  space  on  sides  of  neck;  throat,  white  with  black  mot- 
tlings;  sides  of  head,  black;  lower  parts,  slate  color,  flanks 
mottled  with  brown,  the  feathers  streaked  on  shafts  and  tipped 
with  white;  under  tail-coverts,  blackish  brown,  showing  gray 
barring,  blackish  mottling  and  bordering  and  white  tips ;  tail, 
rounded,  black,  ending  in  broad  gray  band;  primaries,  dark 
brown,  outer  webs  and  tips  mottled  with  gray ;  legs  covered  to 
toes  with  pale  brown  feathers ;  bill,  horn  color.  Total  length, 
about  20  inches ;  wing,  about  9^ ;  tail,  8 ;  tarsus,  if. 

Adult  female  —  Upper  parts,  mottled  with  black  and  buff;  feathers 
usually  tipped  with  white;  wings,  grayish  brown,  barred  and 
mottled  with  buff,  streaked  and  tipped  with  white;  primaries, 
dark  brown;  throat,  buff;  sides  and  front  of  neck  and  chest, 
dark  rusty  gray  with  buffy  white  bars  and  tips ;  rest  of  under 
parts,  slate,  the  flank-feathers  with  black  and  buff  mottlings 
and  white  tips  ;  central  tail-feathers,  blackish  brown,  with  gray- 
ish brown  bars  mottled  with  black ;  rest  of  tail,  black,  with 
slight  gray  mottlings,  and  ending  in  gray  band.  Total  length, 
about  17  inches;  wing,  about  8|;  tail,  6.  Habitat  —  Rocky 
Mountains  from  southern  Idaho,  Montana,  and  western  South 
Dakota  to  New  Mexico  and  Arizona. 

This  grand  species  is,  with  the  single  exception 
of  the  big  cock-of-the-plains,  the  largest  and  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  finest  of  American 
grouse.  It  delights  in  dense,  elevated  forests, 
ranging  upward  from  about  two  thousand  feet 
to  the  timber  line.  Among  western  sportsmen 
it  is  termed  the  "  blue,"  or  "  gray,"  grouse,  and 


148  The  Grouse  Family 

those  who  have  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  shooting 
and  later  eating  it  have  yet  to  be  heard  from  in 
the  line  of  adverse  criticism.  Its  sole  fault  as  a 
game  bird  consists  in  its  seldom  being  found  in 
cover  which  affords  a  fair  chance  to  the  gun.  In 
fact,  it  is  such  an  inveterate  lover  of  trees  that  it 
takes  to  the  branches  as  naturally  as  a  duck  takes 
to  water.  Like  the  ruffed  grouse,  it  will  tree, 
and  remain  motionless  until  it  fancies  it  has  been 
observed ;  then  it  at  once  departs  with  a  sound- 
ing rush,  which  may  only  be  stopped  by  the  quick- 
est and  most  skilled  of  shots.  I  have  flushed  it 
when  it  seemed  to  do  hardly  anything  more  than 
leap  from  the  ground  to  a  convenient  limb,  and 
more  than  once,  while  seeking  to  trim  off  its  head, 
it  has  left  the  perch  so  suddenly  that  the  gun 
could  not  be  shifted  in  time  to  prevent  the  wast- 
ing of  a  shell  —  and  this  little  joke  at  the  expense 
of  a  notoriously  quick  shot.  Could  this  grouse 
be  induced  to  take  to  what  in  the  case  of  ruffed 
grouse  would  be  fair  cover,  it  would  furnish  sport 
not  surpassed  by  any  of  its  family. 

Only  those  familiar  with  the  western  cover  can 
understand  how  easy  it  is  to  fail  to  bag  at  short 
range  a  bird  about  as  large  as  a  common  barn- 
yard hen  —  to  be  accurate,  of  between  three  and 
three  and  one-half  pounds'  weight.  The  tender- 
foot would  imagine  such  a  bird,  rising  close  at 
hand,  to  be  an  easy,  perhaps  too  easy,  mark. 


The  Dusky  Grouse  149 

Let  the  tenderfoot  climb  the  steeps  and  try  a  few 
blue  grouse  as  they  leave  the  trees,  and  his  song 
may  take  on  an  undertone  suggestive  of  blasted 
hopes  and  trust  betrayed.  In  the  first  place,  the 
cover  usually  is  standing  timber  big  enough  to 
stop  a  locomotive,  to  say  nothing  of  small  shot. 
This  timber,  as  I  found  it,  is  about  as  close  as  it 
can  stand,  thereby  forming  something  closely  akin 
to  a  gigantic  stockade  with  extremely  narrow  inter- 
spaces. Imagine  a  picket  fence  enlarged  to  Titanic 
proportions  with  a  swift  bird  whizzing  along  one 
side,  while  from  the  other  side  the  gun  strove  to 
stop  him  as  he  crossed  the  gaps.  Such  a  fence 
would  have  a  deal  more  picket  than  gap,  and  a 
series  of  kills  would  represent  a  heap  more  luck 
than  good  management  on  the  part  of  the  shooter. 
Shooting  through  such  an  obstacle  would  mean 
that  when  the  bird  was  visible  the  gun  would,  or 
should,  be  just  ahead  and  swinging  at  equal  speed, 
which  would  further  mean  that  the  trigger  would 
have  to  be  pulled  either  while  the  bird  was  invisi- 
ble or  while  the  gun  was  squarely  on  a  picket  — 
a  somewhat  bitter  experience  has  proved  that 
almost  invariably  the  gun  was  on  the  picket,  and 
that  the  picket  was  some  feet  thick  and  utterly 
unreasonable. 

This  grouse  also  is  most  difficult  to  locate  even 
when  perched  upon  a  limb  only  a  few  yards  away. 
In  its  native  woods  the  light  is  baffling  and  there 


150  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

is  a  confusion  of  shade,  amid  which  the  general 
slaty  tone  of  the  plumage  is  barely  distinguishable. 
A  coat  of  feathers  especially  designed  with  a  view 
to  protective  coloration  could  not  better  serve  the 
purpose,  and  the  bird  appears  to  be  perfectly 
aware  of  this.  Indeed,  its  habit  of  trusting  to  its 
trick  of  treeing  and  remaining  motionless  has 
earned  for  it  the  name  of  "fool-grouse,"  which 
I  believe  should  be  applied  only  to  young  birds. 
These  unquestionably  will  tree  and  foolishly  main- 
tain their  positions  while  their  comrades  are  being 
shot  or  clubbed  down,  but  the  older  birds,  except 
in  seldom  disturbed  localities,  are  wiser. 

But  fool  grouse  or  no,  when  once  the  bird  con- 
cludes to  start  there  is  no  more  foolishness.  With 
a  nerve-shaking  whirring  it  promptly  gets  to  top 
speed,  and  usually  darts  downhill,  a  manoeuvre 
which  greatly  adds  to  the  difficulty  of  the  shot. 
When  taking  wing  it  cackles  like  a  scared 
fowl. 

In  spite  of  the  bird's  penchant  for  timber  it 
frequently  is  found  in  the  open  and  in  grain 
fields.  In  such  places  the  sportsman  may  enjoy 
"  blue  grouse  "  shooting  as  it  should  be,  and  sport 
of  a  very  high  order.  Then  the  full  strength  and 
speed  of  the  game  becomes  apparent,  and  the  man 
who  makes  uniformly  good  scores  has  no  reason 
to  fear  any  ordinary  company.  I  recall  several 
truly  delightful  experiences,  which,  even  to  a  gun 


The  Dusky  Grouse  151 

"thoroughly  broke"  on  ruffed  grouse  and  quail 
in  the  heavy  cover  of  the  East,  proved  none  too 
easy. 

The  love-making  of  the  male  is  marked  by  all 
the  pomp  and  vanity  of  the  strutting  gobbler; 
indeed,  in  his  actions  he  might  pass  for  a  turkey 
bantam,  but  he  has  one  marked  peculiarity.  It 
is  his  habit  to  perch  in  some  thick-growing  tree, 
and  by  filling  the  sacs  upon  his  neck  with  air  and 
abruptly  expelling  it,  to  produce  a  low  booming, 
which  has  an  extraordinary  carrying  and  ventrilo- 
quial  power.  This  booming,  or  "  booing,"  as  some 
westerners  term  it,  seldom  fails  to  sorely  puzzle 
a  tenderfoot,  the  baffling  feature  of  it  being  that 
it  does  not  appear  to  gain  volume  or  distinctness 
when  the  bird  is  closely  approached.  Even  a  vet- 
eran blue  grouse  hunter  will  hesitate  over  saying 
how  far  a  booming  grouse  is  distant. 

The  male,  while  a  valiant  cavalier  during  the 
period  of  love-making,  —  May,  or  early  in  June, 
according  to  the  elevation  of  the  range,  —  does  not 
trouble  himself  about  the  welfare  of  the  young, 
which  are  carefully  tended  by  the  mother.  The 
nest  is  a  hollow  scratched  in  the  ground  and 
partially  lined  with  grass  or  other  soft  material. 
The  number  of  eggs  varies,  seven  or  eight  being 
the  average.  Occasionally,  about  twice  the  usual 
number  are  found,  which  would  suggest  the  pos- 
sibility of  their  having  been  deposited  by  two 


152  The  Grouse  Family 

hens.  The  color  of  the  eggs  varies  from  pale 
to  a  decided  buff  with  darker  spots.  The  most 
common  site  for  the  nest  is  alongside  a  log, 
but  the  birds  exercise  little  art  either  in  build- 
ing or  concealing  it.  The  period  of  incubation 
is  about  twenty-one  days,  the  young  running  as 
soon  as  they  are  dry.  They  are  prettily  marked 
above  with  light  and  dark  buff,  the  under  parts 
light.  Like  the  young  of  the  ruffed  grouse,  they 
are  adepts  at  hiding.  When  sufficiently  grown 
to  flutter  to  the  lower  branches  of  a  tree,  they 
adopt  the  treeing  habit,  and  from  that  time  on 
behave  as  do  their  elders. 

The  dusky  grouse  feeds  upon  the  foliage  of  cer- 
tain plants,  berries,  grasshoppers,  and  a  variety  of 
other  insects,  grain,  grubs,  and  worms.  During 
the  period  of  deep  snow,  and  snow  is  astonish- 
ingly deep  in  some  of  its  haunts,  it  sustains  itself 
upon  the  buds  of  conifers. 

THE    SOOTY   GROUSE 
(Z>.  o.  fuliginosus) 

Only  an  expert  could  distinguish  this  race  of 
the  preceding  species.  The  plumage  is  several 
shades  darker,  but  all  important  markings  are 
about  the  same.  It  is  found  through  the  moun- 
tains from  California  to  Alaska.  The  habits, 
nesting,  young,  and  food  resemble  those  of  D. 
obscurus. 


The  Canada  Grouse  153 

RICHARDSON'S  GROUSE 

(Z?.  o.  richardsont) 

The  chief  difference  between  this  race  and  D. 
obscurus  is  found  in  the  tail,  which  in  Richardson's 
grouse  is  square  at  the  tip  and  lacking  the  con- 
spicuous gray  band.  It,  too,  is  a  mountain  dweller, 
being  found  along  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Rockies 
from  central  Montana  northward  through  the  moun- 
tain region  of  Canada,  and  has  no  peculiarities  of 
habits  to  distinguish  it  from  its  near  relatives. 

THE    CANADA   GROUSE 
(Canachites  canadensis) 

Adult  malt  —  Upper  parts,  gray,  barred  with  black ;  wings,  lighter 
.  gray  mottled  and  barred  with  black,  and  brown  tips ;  scapulars, 
with  central  white  streaks,  widening  at  tips  ;*  under  parts,  black, 
with  border  of  mixed  black  and  white  to  the  throat,  many  of  the 
feathers  tipped  with  white ;  flanks,  pale  brown,  with  irregular, 
longitudinal  black  lines,  and  white  streaks  along  the  shafts, 
broadening  at  the  tips;  under  tail-coverts,  black,  tipped  with 
white ;  upper  tail-coverts,  black,  mottled  with  brown  and  tipped 
with  gray.  Bill,  black.  Total  length,  about  14^  inches ;  wing, 
7;  tail,  5. 

Adult  female  —  Upper  parts,  barred  with  gray,  buff,  and  black,  the 
gray  most  conspicuous  on  lower  back  and  rump ;  sides  of  breast 
and  flanks,  strongly  tinged  with  buff;  flank-feathers,  with  cen- 
tral streak  of  white,  broadening  at  tips.  Abdomen,  black, 
feathers  tipped  with  white;  under  tail-coverts,  black,  barred 
with  buff,  and  tipped  with  white ;  median  tail-feathers,  barred 
with  buff  and  black ;  remainder,  black,  with  irregular,  narrow, 
buffish  lines  and  tipped  with  same  color.  No  noticeable  differ- 
ence in  the  size  of  the  sexes.  The  downy  young  are  yellow  with 
dark  markings  above.  A  black  line  through  the  eye  to  the 
nape. 


154  The  Grouse  Family 

An  exceedingly  pretty,  but,  from  the  sporting 
point  of  view,  a  practically  useless  bird.  It  is 
found  throughout  most  of  the  forested  regions  of 
Canada,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  eastern  slopes 
of  the  Rockies,  thence  northward  to  the  vicinity 
of  Kadiak,  Alaska ;  and  also  through  the  north- 
ern portions  of  the  northern  tier  of  states  to  the 
Rockies.  It  prefers  dense  growths  of  spruce  and 
fir,  and  swamps  of  tamarack.  It  is  a  hardy  bird, 
but  so  gentle  and  confiding  as  to  appear  stupid. 
It  is  usually  seen  in  small  companies,  as  if  one 
brood,  and  is  common  in  the  vicinity  of  the  old 
portages  and  trails  made  by  the  lumberman  and 
fur-trader.  The  writer  has  twice  caught  mature 
specimens  with  his  bare  hands,  and  it  is  a  conu 
mon  trick  of  woodsmen  to  decapitate  a  bird  with 
a  switch,  or  noose  it  with  a  bit  of  twine.  Once 
the  writer  came  precious  near  hooking  one  with  a 
trout  fly,  at  which  the  grouse  had  pecked.  Only 
a  dislike  to  needless  cruelty,  and  a  respect  for  a 
fine  rod,  saved  this  particular  bird.  Quite  often 
the  brood  is  met  with  in  the  trail,  when  they  will 
sedately  step  aside  about  sufficiently  far  to  make 
room  for  the  intruder's  boots,  meanwhile  regard- 
ing him  with  a  laughable  air  of  affectionate  inter- 
est. No  doubt  this  grouse  could  fly  rapidly  should 
it  choose  to  exert  its  powers,  but  it  is  content  with 
more  leisurely  movements.  The  flesh  is  very  dark, 
and  even  when  at  its  best  is  fit  only  for  a  hungry 


The  Canada  Grouse  155 

man.  In  the  winter  it  is  bitter,  and  entirely  un- 
worthy of  a  place  upon  the  table.  Some  people 
claim  to  like  it,  but  tastes  are  bound  to  differ.  In 
my  opinion  this  grouse  should  never  be  shot,  but 
suffered  to  live  out  its  gentle  life  in  the  grim  old 
woods,  to  which  its  presence  lends  the  touch  of 
life  too  seldom  seen. 

Its  courtship  presents  some  peculiarities  which 
cannot  fail  to  interest  the  intelligent  spectator. 
The  male  struts  as  proudly  as  the  grandest  gob- 
bler of  barnyard  or  forest;  his  red  combs  show 
erect  and  swollen,  and  he  seems  all  puffed  up  with 
pride  and  passion.  Suddenly  he  leaps  into  the 
air  with  wings  whirring  like  electric  fans,  and  for 
a  moment  or  two  hovers  as  though  fixed  to  the 
spot,  then  slowly  lowers  himself.  The  sound  of 
the  wings  when  he  is  thus  engaged  may  be  heard 
at  a  considerable  distance,  but,  like  the  whirring  of 
the  true  pheasant,  it  is  ventriloquial,  and  difficult 
to  locate.  The  nest  consists  of  a  few  leaves  and 
light  stuff  arranged  with  little  care,  frequently  in  the 
shelter  of  a  thick  spruce.  The  number  of  eggs 
varies  from  eight  to  about  a  dozen.  The  ground 
color  is  buff,  with  irregular  brownish  marks.  Only 
one  brood  is  raised  in  a  season.  The  young  be- 
have like  other  youthful  grouse,  and  the  mother 
displays  an  obstinate  devotion  seldom  equalled, 
bustling  about  one's  feet,  and  almost  attacking  in 
her  nervous  anxiety  to  draw  the  peril  toward  herself. 


156  The  Grouse  Family 


FRANKLIN'S  GROUSE 

(C.  franklini) 

The  distinguishing  marks  of  this  species  are 
the  broad,  white  bars  at  the  end  of  the  upper  tail- 
coverts.  It  is  also  a  trifle  larger  than  C.  canaden- 
szs,  which  it  otherwise  closely  resembles.  Its 
range  includes  the  Rocky  Mountains  from  north- 
western Montana,  through  Oregon  and  Washing- 
ton and  the  Coast  Range  of  British  Columbia  to 
Alaska.  It  prefers  high  elevations,  usually  be- 
tween five  and  ten  thousand  feet.  In  disposition 
it  is  even  more  fearless  and  confiding  than  its 
relative  of  the  East.  As  an  object  of  the  sports- 
man's interest,  it  is  absolutely  without  merit. 

THE    PRAIRIE-HEN 

(Tympanuchus  americanus) 

Adult  male  —  Upper  parts,  brown,  barred  with  black  and  buff;  wing- 
feathers  tipped  with  buff;  a  tuft  of  stiff,  elongated  feathers, 
capable  of  being  elevated  over  the  head  on  either  side  of  the 
neck,  black,  with  buff  centres,  frequently  chestnut  on  inner 
webs;  chin,  throat,  and  cheeks,  buff,  the  latter  marked  with 
dark  brown  spots ;  a  brown  line  from  mouth,  beneath  the  eye, 
to  ear-coverts ;  buff  stripe  from  maxilla  to  and  beyond  the  eye ; 
under  parts,  white,  barred  with  brown  ;  flanks,  barred  with  dark 
brown  and  buff;  under  tail-coverts,  white,  margined  with  brown 
and  buff;  tail,  brown,  tipped  with  white;  large  sacs  of  loose 
skin  beneath  the  long  neck-feathers.  Total  length,  about  18 
inches ;  wing,  9 ;  tail,  4^.  The  female  is  like  the  male,  but  a 
trifle  smaller,  and  the  neck-tufts  are  very  short.  She  has  no 
sacs  on  the  neck.  The  downy  young  are  light  buff,  with  darker 


The  Prairie-Hen  157 

markings  on  head  and  upper  parts.  Range  —  Prairies  of  Mis- 
sissippi Valley  from  Manitoba  to  Ontario,  Michigan,  and  Ohio, 
west  to  the  Dakotas,  Kansas,  and  Indian  Territory,  south  to 
Louisiana  and  Texas. 

Of  all  the  grouse  family,  this  bird — the  "chicken" 
of  shooting  lore  —  probably  yields  the  most  com- 
plete satisfaction  to  the  great  army  of  American 
sportsmen.  Its  greatest  rival  is  the  famed  red 
bird  of  the  moors  over  sea,  but  if  the  question  of 
all-round  merit  were  left  to  popular  vote,  beyond 
all  doubt  the  "  chicken  "  would  poll  an  overwhelm- 
ing majority.  Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  for 
unquestionably  it  is  the  bird  of  the  people. 

Were  the  cleverest  sportsman  who  ever  lived 
to  undertake  the  designing  of  a  bird  of  habitat 
and  habits  to  suit  the  wishes  of  perhaps  three- 
fourths  of  the  gunners  of  this  country,  the  result 
of  his  labor  surely  would  be  something  very  like 
a  chicken.  Let  us  glance  at  its  qualifications : 
it  is  of  good  size,  carrying  plenty  of  wholesome 
and  excellent  meat ;  its  appearance  is  pleasing ; 
it  is  vigorous  and  prolific ;  it  is  a  useful  friend  to 
the  farmer ;  and  it  loves  a  region  of  pure  air  and 
pleasant  sunshine,  wherein  an  overworked  man 
may  find  a  cure-all  for  his  mental  worry  and  re- 
sultant ills ;  its  ranges  may  be  reached  in  comfort 
and  traversed  with  pleasure;  it  behaves  well  be- 
fore dogs ;  it  gives  the  gun  a  fair,  open  chance, 
seldom  being  found  in  anything  like  really  diffi- 


158  The  Grouse  Family 

cult  cover;  and,  perhaps  best  of  all,  it  offers  a 
comparatively  easy  mark  early  in  the  season 
when  the  guns  are  apt  to  be  out  of  form,  with  in- 
creasing difficulties  as  the  season  advances,  when 
the  guns  should  be  doing  better,  while  near  the 
close  of  the  season  it  will  thoroughly  test  the  skill 
and  resourcefulness  of  the  deadliest  of  the  masters 
of  the  shotgun.  Lives  there  another  game  bird 
of  which  as  much  may  be  truly  said  ?  And  this 
is  not  all,  for  the  big,  generous  chicken  goes  even 
farther  and  extends  an  invitation  to  the  lame,  the 
halt,  and  —  I  came  pretty  near  saying  the  blind  ! 
Come  to  think  of  it,  the  chicken  might  welcome 
the  blind  —  nay!  even  prefer  them  —  but  that 
doesn't  matter.  Lest  these  rather  sweeping  state- 
ments should  be  misunderstood,  it  is  pardonable 
to  explain  that  (providing  what's  left  of  him  be 
all  right)  a  one-armed,  one-legged,  or  no-legged 
man  may  enjoy  his  chicken-shooting  with  the 
best  of  them.  The  western  prairies  have  their 
fine  shots  who  are  maimed  in  all  three  ways,  for 
the  chicken  may  be  shot  from  either  the  saddle, 
or  any  suitable  wheeled  conveyance,  without  any 
need  for  the  gunner  to  move  from  his  seat.  Shoot- 
ing from  the  saddle  is  a  method  which  is  common 
in  both  West  and  South,  but  only  the  prairie  in 
some  form  can  offer  reliable  sport  to  the  man  on 
wheels. 

The    prairie-hen,    now    inseparably    associated 


The  Prairie- Hen  159 

with  the  country  of  magnificent  open  plains,  was 
not  always  confined  to  its  present  ranges.  There 
is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  was  once  very  abun- 
dant much  farther  east  than  its  present  limit,  and 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  in  the  old  days  the 
birds  favored  tracts  of  open  woodlands.  Like 
the  quail,  the  "  chicken  "  follows  the  plough,  which 
accounts  for  the  gradual  extension  of  its  range 
westward,  while  the  narrowing  of  the  eastward 
limit  is  readily  explained  by  the  increased  number 
of  guns  and  other  destructive  agencies.  In  most 
of  its  present  haunts  the  bird  may  be  considered 
a  resident,  yet  there  is  somewhat  of  a  drifting 
movement  southward  from  the  extreme  northern 
grounds,  which  occasionally  amounts  to  what 
might  be  termed  a  partial  migration.  Strangely 
enough,  this  southward  movement  appears  to  be 
confined  chiefly  to  the  females,  the  great  majority 
of  the  males  sticking  to  their  native  ranges  in 
spite  of  furious  storms  and  arctic  temperature. 

Few  of  those  at  all  familiar  with  the  prairies 
have  failed  to  notice  the  love-making — the  pecul- 
iar booming  and  ridiculous  antics  of  the  males 
of  this  species,  which  are  so  characteristic  of  the 
first  few  days  of  early  spring.  The  low,  booming 
sound  carries  far  through  the  still  gray  atmos- 
phere of  earliest  dawn,  and  when,  as  usually  hap- 
pens, a  lot  of  old  males  have  assembled  upon 
some  slightly  rising  ground,  they  make  a  row 


160  The  Grouse  Family 

which  would  do  credit  to  a  host  of  gigantic  bull- 
frogs. 

When  I  first  heard  this  booming,  it  sorely  puz- 
zled me.  It  was  in  western  Ontario,  on  what  is 
known  as  Raleigh  plains  —  an  extensive  tract  of 
low,  marshy  land,  lying  for  miles  along  the  south 
bank  of  the  Thames  River.  During  early  spring 
this  tract  was  flooded  with  the  exception  of  a 
limited  central  area  of  less  than  one  hundred 
acres  in  extent.  Spring  shooting  of  geese,  duck, 
and  snipe  was  then  both  legal  and  amazingly 
good,  guns  were  comparatively  few,  and  the  plains 
formed  something  very  like  an  earthly  Eden  for 
those  sufficiently  game  to  face  astounding  mud 
and  ice-cold  water.  To  get  out  before  gray  dawn, 
to  occupy  some  trifling  "hide,"  and  there  await 
the  morning  flight  of  waterfowl,  was  the  proper 
caper.  This  frequently  was  wet,  dirty  work,  but 
the  shooting  was  grand,  so  discomfort  was  cheer- 
fully endured.  Just  before  sunrise,  from  the  higher 
part  of  the  plains  there  invariably  came  a  mysteri- 
ous sound  —  "  Boo-rum-roo-boo-rum-roo  "  often  re- 
peated. I  had  then  never  seen  a  live  prairie-hen, 
nor  had  the  older  local  gunners,  and  the  booming 
sound  troubled  me  much.  It  was  easily  imitated, 
and  one  day  I  spoke  of  it  to  three  red-faced  old 
rascals  of  the  genuine  old  sporting  school. 

"  What's  it  like  ? "  growled  one,  who  hated 
troublesome  boys  as  he  hated  his  Satanic  majesty. 


The  Prairie-Hen  161 

The  unfortunate  writer  voiced  a  good  imitation 
of  the  strange  sound. 

"  Why,  you  d d  young  fool  —  that's  a  bull- 
frog! "  roared  the  old  cock,  making  a  wrathful 
pass  with  his  cane.  But  the  writer  was  agile,  and 
he  fled  abashed.  The  next  time  he  heard  the 
sound,  he  deliberately  forfeited  all  chance  for 
waterfowl  by  wading  directly  across  the  marsh 
through  water  and  mud  frequently  up  to  his 
waist.  The  sound  led  him  on  and  on,  until  at 
last  he  descried  a  large  fowl-like  bird  upon  a 
knoll,  and  traced  the  sound  to  it.  When  the 
bird  flushed,  he  didn't  know  what  it  was,  so  he 
shot  at  it,  and  greatly  to  his  regret  it  proved  to 
be  a  fine  male  pinnated  grouse,  or  prairie-hen. 
He  stuffed  the  bird,  and  it  is  still  in  his  posses- 
sion, and  although  he  has  since  killed  hundreds 

—  perhaps  thousands  might  be  nearer  the  mark 

—  he   has   yet   to   see  a  finer  specimen.     Later 
developments  proved  the  old  male  to  have  had 
company,  to  be  exact,  upon  the  plains  in  question, 
and  upon   another   similar  expanse  a  few  miles 
away,  there  were  years  later  as  many  as  seventy- 
five  or  one  hundred  "  chickens."     Possibly  a  few 
of  their  descendants  still  survive. 

But  to  see  the  chicken  at  home,  one  should  go 
to  the  Dakotas,  Minnesota,  or  Manitoba,  or  one 
of  the  good  western  grounds.  The  observer,  who 
should  be  equipped  with  a  powerful  glass,  may 


1 62  The  Grouse  Family 

there  study  birds  at  his  leisure,  and  learn  much 
of  their  curious  ways  during  the  love-making  sea- 
son. Then  the  old  males  are  full  of  fire,  and  their 
booming  comes  to  the  ear  like  the  mufHed  lowing 
of  distant  herds  of  cattle.  Through  the  glass  one 
can  follow  every  move  of  the  assembled  males, 
note  the  absurd  posturing  of  love's  minuet,  the 
frenzied  strutting,  and  the  often  furious  fight- 
ing. The  male  has  upon  either  side  of  his  neck 
a  yellow  sac,  which  roughly  resembles  the  half  of 
an  orange.  These  he  can  inflate  to  an  enormous 
size,  and  collapse  them  at  will,  and  during  the 
emptying  of  these  sacs  is  produced  the  booming 
sound.  While  strutting  the  bird  presents  an 
extraordinary  appearance.  The  sacs  are  inflated 
until  they  suggest  the  rubber  bladder  toy  of  the 
children ;  the  bird's  head  almost  disappears  be- 
tween them,  while  their  tremendous  enlargement 
forces  forward  the  long  winglike  feathers  of  the 
neck  until  they  project  above  the  head  almost  to 
the  point  of  meeting.  With  the  sacs  fully  in- 
flated, the  neck  appears  to  be  as  large  as  the 
body,  while  the  hornlike  projected  feathers  lend 
an  uncanny  effect  which,  to  say  the  least,  is  start- 
ling, if  not  rather  devilish.  The  short  tail,  fully 
spread,  is  raised  fanlike  above  the  back,  while  the 
wings  are  lowered  like  those  of  a  strutting  gobbler 
until  the  primaries  scrape  the  ground.  The  strut- 
ting is,  of  course,  intended  to  impress  the  onlook- 


The  Prairie- Hen  163 

ing  females  with  the  idea  that  each  male  is  a 
devil  of  a  fellow,  and  a  most  desirable  parti. 
The  various  movements  embrace  a  series  of  pos- 
turings  varied  with  abrupt,  short  rushes  this  way 
and  that.  Every  now  and  then  a  male  lowers  his 
head  and  expels  the  air  from  his  sacs,  and  the 
booming  sound  speeds  over  the  great  grassy  sea, 
as  the  voice  of  white-maned  breakers  comes  from 
the  distant  reef.  I  have  lain  watching  and  listen- 
ing while  one  hundred  or  more  were  thus  en- 
gaged, and  the  experience  was  well  worth  the 
trouble  of  beating  the  sun  across  the  grass.  The 
grand  concert  is  always  about  sunrise,  but  scat- 
tered birds  may  be  heard  at  any  time  during  the 
day. 

The  big  musterings  are  continued  each  morn- 
ing for  about  a  week,  and  toward  the  end  the  man 
with  the  glass  may  enjoy  a  surfeit  of  impromptu 
fights,  for  the  jealous  males  mill  it  right  merrily 
as  though  they  considered  their  meeting-place  an 
exaggerated  cockpit.  They  fight  with  feet,  wings, 
and  bills  ;  pecking  savagely,  hanging  on,  and  leap- 
ing and  striking  somewhat  after  the  manner  of 
their  remote  kin  —  the  wearers  of  the  deadly 
gaffs.  When  one  feels  that  he  has  been  suffi- 
ciently mauled,  he  "  flies  the  pit,"  and  unless  he 
has  luck  in  running  across  some  lone  maid,  or 
some  mated  male  who  either  is  a  poor  fighter  or 
will  submit  to  a  bluff,  he  wins  no  mate  that  sea- 


1 64  The  Grouse  Family 

son.  These  lone  males  are  termed  by  the  plains- 
men "old  solitaries,"  and  they  are  apt  to  prove 
wary  and  afford  long-range  single  chances  when 
the  shooting  season  comes.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  they  "  get  into  the  game  again  "  the  following 
spring,  but  naturally  this  is  a  difficult  matter  to 
prove,  with  the  probabilities  in  favor  of  another 
attempt. 

Once  mated,  the  pairs  scatter  far  and  wide, 
nesting  wherever  they  find  suitable  sites,  such  as 
a  thick  clump  of  grass  or  weeds.  The  nest  is 
merely  a  slight  depression  lined  with  grass  and  a 
few  feathers.  The  eggs  vary  considerably  both 
in  ground,  color,  and  markings,  the  usual  type 
being  pale  brown  freckled  with  reddish  brown. 
They  are  hatched  in  about  twenty-five  days,  the 
period  of  incubation  being  irregular,  perhaps 
slightly  influenced  by  the  weather.  The  number 
of  eggs  varies  greatly,  as  many  as  twenty  having 
been  found,  although  the  average  would  appear 
to  be  about  a  dozen.  Should  a  nest  be  destroyed, 
especially  before  the  completion  of  the  laying,  the 
hen  will  build  anew  and  proceed  to  business.  In 
such  cases  the  number  of  eggs  is  apt  to  be  some- 
what below  the  average.  So  soon  as  the  hen 
begins  to  brood,  the  male  takes  himself  off,  as 
though  "  the  subsequent  proceedings  interested 
him  no  more." 

The  young  run  as  soon  as  they  are  dry,  and  the 


The  Prairie- Hen  165 

nest  has  no  further  attraction  for  them,  the  mother 
covering  them  wherever  the  close  of  the  day  finds 
them;  but  as  they  are  given  to  hanging  about 
some  spot  where  food  is  abundant,  they  may  be 
found  for  days  in  succession  on  this  favorite 
ground.  The  hen  is  an  excellent  mother,  giving 
warning  at  the  first  sign  of  danger  and  feigning 
lameness  to  attract  the  intruder  to  herself.  The 
wee  chicks  are  swift  of  foot  and  clever  at  hiding, 
and  the  discovery  of  them  in  the  open  by  no 
means  implies  the  capture  of  even  one.  The  first 
food  of  the  chicks  is  insects  of  various  kinds,  the 
main  course  being  grasshoppers.  In  this  purely 
insectivorous  stage  the  birds  perform  a  distinct 
service  the  value  of  which  must  be  considerable. 
Later  on,  the  diet  is  varied  with  seeds,  berries, 
and  grain,  wherever  the  latter  is  to  be  had. 

By  the  middle  of  August,  in  average  seasons, 
the  young  look  large  when  they  flush,  but  they 
are  still  soft  and  comparatively  weak  of  wing. 
By  the  first  of  September,  however,  the  majority 
of  them  are  strong  enough  to  afford  the  best  of 
shooting,  and  they  are  then  extremely  good  eat- 
ing. The  flesh  is  then  white,  but  it  darkens  as 
the  bird  ages.  A  peculiarity  of  it  is  that  it  does 
not  improve  with  hanging.  Experienced  chicken 
shooters  know  this,  and  they  never  hesitate  over 
eating  a  bird  within  a  few  hours  of  its  death. 
Upon  rising  the  chicken  clucks  gruffly  and  speeds 


1 66  The  Grouse  Family 

away,  usually  in  a  straight  line  a  few  feet  above 
the  grass.  The  flush  is  accompanied  by  a  vigor- 
ous whirring,  the  flight  being  marked  by  periods 
of  rapid  wing-beats  alternating  with  gliding  upon 
set  pinions,  not  unlike  the  flight  of  the  meadow- 
lark.  Early  in  the  season  the  birds  lie  like  stones, 
frequently  in  thick  cover,  waiting  until  almost 
trodden  upon.  The  flush  almost  invariably  is 
straggling,  the  birds  getting  up  singly,  and  by 
twos  and  threes.  The  old  hand  knows  this,  and 
with  an  ejector  gun  and  nimble  fingers  he  fre- 
quently bags  half  a  dozen  in  swift  succession  to 
the  one  point.  Now  and  then  an  unusually  quick 
man  will  bag  an  entire  brood  without  leaving  his 
tracks.  This  is  the  feat  of  chicken-shooting,  and 
I  never  will  forget  one  glorious  day  when,  before 
the  keen  eyes  of  a  remorseless  critic  and  now  fa- 
mous writer,  I  dropped  eleven  singles  and  doubles, 

nor  his  frenzied  roar  of,  "  Kill  her, you !  "  when 

the  old  hen,  true  to  habit,  flushed  last  and  was  luck- 
ily dropped  full  fifty  yards  away.  That  little  inci- 
dent was  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  which  is 
worth  more  than  all  the  game  in  North  America, 
but  it  is  now  an  old  story. 

Upon  another  occasion,  in  South  Dakota,  I  was 
shooting  in  company  with  a  quite  celebrated  trap- 
shot —  peace  be  to  his  ashes!  He  wanted  one 
hundred  chickens  to  send  East  for  some  special 
purpose,  and  he  declared  that  he  would  work  the 


Tbe  Prairie- Hen 


167 


dogs  while  the  other  fellow  did  the  shooting.  It 
was  just  at  the  prime  of  the  season  and  birds 
were  plentiful.  The  first  day's  bag  was  a  heavy 
one,  the  second  nearly  as  good,  the  third  some- 
what lighter,  eleven  chickens  being  required  to 
complete  the  hundred.  This  was  an  easy  task 
for  the  morning,  so  preparations  were  made  for 
breaking  camp. 

"  Never  mind  about  shells,  there's  lots  in  the 
rig,"  he  remarked,  as  we  prepared  to  start.  The 
dogs  sailed  away  and  soon  found  game,  which 
flushed  in  the  usual  straggling  fashion,  and  paid 
the  usual  penalty.  A  second  lot  was  located  and 
it  yielded  three.  Finally  the  dogs  pulled  up 
beside  a  big  strip  of  rank  grass.  "  How  many 
shells  you  got  left  ? "  queried  the  driver. 

"  Two  in  the  gun  and — one  in  the  pocket,"  was 
the  reply  after  a  feel. 

"  Good  —  kill  out,"  was  the  gruff  rejoinder. 

It  was  a  simple  task,  for  the  birds  had  almost 
to  be  kicked  out  of  the  grass.  As  the  third  fell, 
to  my  amazement  there  was  a  roar  from  the  buck- 
board,  and  what  felt  like  a  drunken  gorilla  fell 
upon  me  and  bore  me,  face  downward,  into  the 
grass,  where  I  was  mauled,  as  it  was  put,  "  Good 
and  plenty."  The  cause  of  the  asylum-suggestive 
demonstration  proved  to  be  the  somewhat  start- 
ling fact  that  the  driver  had  been  keeping  tabs  on 
the  shells,  and  for  the  several  trips  the  birds  and 


1 68  The  Grouse  Family 

shells  tallied.  It  was  an  extraordinary  performance, 
which,  needless  to  say,  that  gun  has  never  dupli- 
cated either  upon  chickens  or  any  other  game. 

That  was  chicken-shooting  with  everything  in 
the  gun's  favor,  but  it  did  not  represent  the  best 
of  the  sport,  which  can  only  be  enjoyed  during 
those  occasional  warm,  windless, sleepy  spells  which 
come  later,  and  which  are  so  strongly  suggestive 
of  the  genuine  Indian  summer  of  the  East.  Then 
the  fully  matured  birds  lie  like  dead  things,  but 
rise  swift  and  strong  and  go  whizzing  away  on 
what  surely  will  prove  very  long  flights  unless  the 
lead  prevents.  Then  is  the  time  when  a  man  can 
perhaps  kill  his  twenty  odd  in  succession,  yet  feel 
that  every  kill  is  an  individual  triumph  of  manly 
skill,  for  the  range  with  a  quick  man  must  needs 
be  short,  and  the  work  clean,  be  it  hit  or  miss. 
Quite  often  birds  will  lie  closer  than  is  desirable. 
In  such  cases  an  imitation  of  the  sound  of  the 
whirring  flush  is  apt  to  start  near-lying  individuals. 
The  sound  of  the  voice  also  startles  them,  hence, 
when  a  nice  lot  of  birds  are  down  in  good  cover, 
it  is  well  to  avoid  speaking  to  dog  or  comrades. 

Where  the  country  comprises  a  mingling  of 
cover  and  small  prairies,  as  in  some  of  the  best 
parts  of  Wisconsin,  the  chickens  after  the  first 
flush  make  for  the  wooded  or  brushy  hillsides 
which  are  almost  invariably  within  easy  flight. 
Much  of  the  timber  of  these  hillsides  is  small 


The  Prairie- Hen  169 

oak,  and  the  general  appearance  is  parklike.  On 
such  ground  the  shooting  is  excellent,  there  being 
just  enough  trees  to  keep  a  man  keen  and  careful. 
Many  other  places  present  a  snarl  of  low  scrub- 
oak  and  hazels,  seldom  more  than  waist-high.  In 
such  cover  the  chickens  lie  like  quail,  and  a  good 
shot  can  walk  them  up  singly  and  drop  bird  after 
bird  till  his  coat  can  hold  no  more  —  then  hey ! 
for  the  following  wagon,  to  deposit  therein  the 
slain,  and  to  resume  the  beat  till  the  coat  is  again 
too  heavy  for  comfort. 

Days  on  these  small  Wisconsin  prairies  leave 
enduring  memories.  It  is  quite  true  that  the 
number  of  birds  and  the  possible  bags  could 
never  rival  the  possibilities  of  the  mighty  grass- 
lands farther  west,  yet  a  gun  could  stop  from  a 
dozen  to  three  times  that  number  of  birds  during 
a  day  of  hard  work,  and  could  a  sportsman  desire 
more  ?  Your  true  sportsman  is  an  artist,  not  a 
butcher ;  and  amid  the  billowy  hills  of  Wisconsin 
he  may  feast  his  eyes  upon  a  grand  succession  of 
vistas,  steeps  of  purpling  oaks,  ravines  of  golden 
poplars,  and  sweet  intervales  of  snug  homes  lying 
amid  well-tended  fields,  which  delightfully  serve 
to  sharpen  the  wild  beauty  of  the  background, 
which  remains  as  it  has  ever  been. 

And  they  will  not  all  be  chickens,  those  birds 
which  Nimrod  lovingly  smooths  and  counts  at 
nightfall,  when  the  tang  gets  into  the  air  and  the 


1 70  The  Grouse  Family 

crimson  pales  behind  the  dusky  hills.  The 
ruffed  grouse  whirls  the  painted  leaves  as  his 
swift  fans  thrill  the  silence;  small  Bob,  too, 
rouses  mimic  thunders  as  he  rips  the  dappled  sun- 
shine with  tiny  might ;  and  now  and  then,  e'en  to 
this  day,  a  swift  gray  arrow  cleaves  the  still,  sweet 
air  and  strikes  its  target  of  glowing  foliage.  The 
thought  that  this  lone  arrow  may  be  the  last  of 
all  those  myriad  flights  which  once  assailed  these 
lichened  keeps  and  vine-hung  battlements,  should 
quench  the  war-spark  in  the  eye  and  slacken  the 
ready  finger  just  in  time,  for  the  pigeon  is  too 
rare  for  one  to  be  destroyed. 

The  great  plains,  while  lacking  the  beauty  of 
foliage  and  picturesque  irregularities  of  Wiscon- 
sin, yet  possess  a  charm  peculiarly  their  own — a 
breadth  and  power,  somewhat  like  that  of  the 
ocean,  which  gives  a  sense  of  freedom  and  daring 
to  whoever  trails  far  out  and  sees  the  dim  blue 
of  distant  forests  rimming  like  fading  shores  the 
huge,  halted  billows  of  grass.  To  camp  night 
after  night  amid  sweet  grass,  to  trail  day  after 
day  over  a  silent  expanse,  where  nature  never 
sounds  a  discordant  note,  to  toil  until  weary  of  a 
fascinating  task,  to  eat  when  hungry,  and  to  sleep 
till  thoroughly  rested  and  refreshed,  is  no  bad 
medicine  for  a  man  whose  nerves  may  have  been 
racked  by  the  ceaseless  throb  and  jar  of  some 
busy  city.  And  there  is  another,  which  to  many 


The  Prairie- Hen  171 

is  by  far  the  more  attractive  way,  viz.,  to  secure  a 
properly  appointed  car  and  have  it  side-tracked 
somewhere  where  the  game  is  abundant,  and, 
with  the  car  as  a  home  upon  wheels,  to  shoot  in 
every  direction  until  a  change  may  be  desired 
and  the  car  be  hauled  to  the  chosen  point. 

This  is  the  wiser  plan  for  the  latter  part  of  the 
season,  for  the  car  is  better  than  any  temporary 
camp  can  possibly  be  made.  With  it,  a  party  of 
good  fellows  may  have  a  royal  time  without  for- 
feiting one  of  those  creature  comforts  which,  after 
all  has  been  said,  are  not  characteristic  of  camps, 
yet  which  go  so  far  toward  impressing  a  man 
with  the  idea  that  life  really  is  worth  living. 
Given  such  an  outfit,  and  with  birds  wilder  and 
stronger  of  wing,  as  they  are  bound  to  prove  as 
the  season  advances,  and  the  man  who  cannot 
enjoy  himself  probably  is  one  of  those  fellows 
who  would  come  out  nights  and  "  kick  "  because 
his  grave  wasn't  properly  aired  and  lighted,  or 
who  would  want  to  go  right  back  because  the 
celestial  pavement  wasn't  built  of  the  particular 
brand  of  gold  brick  which  he  had  handled  in 
Jersey. 

As  the  end  of  the  season  approaches,  some- 
times earlier,  if  an  unseasonable  chilly  period 
arrives,  the  scattered  broods  unite  and  form 
packs,  which  frequently  contain  hundreds  of 
birds.  They  are  then  entirely  too  wild  to  be 


172  The  Grouse  Family 

depended  upon  for  sport  with  the  gun,  although 
an  occasional  warm  spell  may  cause  a  good  day. 
A  pack  will  seldom  allow  a  man  to  approach 
within  anything  like  shotgun  range,  and,  if 
flushed,  it  rises  with  an  astounding  roar  of  wings 
and  streams  away  at  an  electric  clip  for  perhaps  a 
mile,  or  more.  To  follow  is  well-nigh  useless,  for 
the  birds  will  not  lie,  and  the  pursuer  may  rest 
assured  that  a  lot  of  keen  eyes  are  following  his 
every  movement.  Under  such  conditions  it  is 
possible  to  have  a  bit  of  sport  with  a  rifle  of 
medium  calibre,  and  this  is  not  to  be  despised 
by  the  energetic  man  who  craves  a  hard,  health- 
giving  tramp  and  who  can  content  himself  with 
a  brace  or  so  of  birds.  Quite  often  it  is  possible 
to  get  fair  chances  at  from  fifty  to  seventy-five 
yards,  when  the  man  possessed  of  that  rare  gift — 
the  power  to  correctly  estimate  distance  on  the 
plains  —  and  the  skill  to  put  his  lead  where  he 
wants  it,  may  kill  enough  birds  to  keep  his 
interest  from  waning. 

The  best  dog  for  chicken-shooting  is  the  best 
dog  for  any  form  of  upland  shooting,  i.e.  a  thor- 
oughly broken  pointer  or  setter.  Both  breeds 
have  stanch  admirers,  who  do  not  hesitate  to 
claim  a  marked  superiority  for  their  favorite.  In 
my  opinion,  and  I  have  had  much  to  do  with  both 
dogs,  there  is  no  perceptible  difference  in  the 
quality  of  the  actual  field  work.  To  any  one  but 


Tbe  Prairie-Hen  173 

a  pronounced  advocate  of  the  pointer,  the  setter 
is  a  far  handsomer  and  frequently  a  more  intelli- 
gent animal,  which,  as  a  rule,  makes  it  the  more 
desirable  companion,  especially  during  the  close 
season.  My  preference  is  for  the  pointer,  be- 
cause of  his  more  uniform  steadiness  upon  scant 
work,  and  his  ability  to  stand  hard  work  dur- 
ing warm  weather  without  continually  requiring 
water.  This  upon  the  plains  is  no  unimportant 
matter,  for  in  many  sections  good  water  in  abun- 
dance is  not  readily  obtainable,  which  means  that 
wise  men  will  carry  a  full  keg  lashed  to  the  rig 
wherever  they  go.  The  chief  disadvantage  of  the 
pointer  is  that  he  rarely  has  sufficient  coat  to 
properly  protect  his  hide  from  the  sharp,  coarse 
grass,  while  his  almost  hairless  feet  are  liable  to 
injury  from  continuous  work  in  stiff,  new-cut 
stubble.  In  point  of  fact  the  weakness  of  one 
dog  is  the  strength  of  the  other ;  hence,  the  set- 
ter, being  the  better  protected  all  round,  can 
better  stand  the  wear  and  tear,  while  his  rival, 
owing  to  his  lack  of  protective  coat,  is  less  liable 
to  overheating  and  its  continuous  thirst.  Under 
reasonably  fair  conditions,  the  dogs  are  equal  in 
speed,  range,  nose,  staying  powers  and  "bird- 


sense." 


Be  the  dog  of  either  breed,  to  win  renown  upon 
the  prairie  he  needs  must  be  a  free,  wide,  fast 
ranger  and  a  determined  worker,  not  afraid  to 


174  The  Grouse  Family 

go  a  mile,  if  need  require,  from  his  handler,  and 
sufficiently  stanch  to  hold  his  point  without  a 
waver,  although  many  minutes  should  elapse 
before  reinforcements  arrive.  A  dog  of  fine 
nose  and  intelligence,  if  possessed  of  the  other 
qualifications,  is  a  treasure  beyond  price.  The 
trouble  with  eastern-broken  dogs  when  they  first 
attempt  prairie  work  is  that  the  ground  is  too 
vast  for  them.  Unaccustomed  as  they  are  to 
an  apparently  limitless  scope  of  novel  cover  with 
never  a  fence  or  bit  of  brush  to  catch  their  eye 
and  draw  them  on,  they  are  apt  to  at  first  feel 
somewhat  dazed  by  the  seemingly  hopeless  pros- 
pect before  them.  Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at, 
for  not  seldom  the  man,  too,  feels  how  small  is  the 
chance  of  striking  the  right  spot  in  all  that  sea 
of  space.  But  a  good  dog  is  good  anywhere,  and 
presently,  after  he  has  enjoyed  his  initial  whiff  of 
the  rich  new  scent,  he  will  go  striding  away  at 
that  regular,  determined,  all-day-got-to-find-'em-at- 
last  gait  which  is  the  hall-mark  of  a  good  one 
broken  on  the  plains. 

The  deadliest  foes  of  the  prairie-hen,  ranked 
in  order  of  destructiveness,  are:  man,  as  sports- 
man, lighter  of  fires,  farmer,  and  as  trapper ;  the 
weather,  as  snow,  cold,  and  rain ;  the  beasts  and 
birds  of  prey  —  wolves,  foxes,  skunks,  and  hawks 
and  snakes.  Dismissing  the  ravages  by  weather, 
of  which  excessive  rain,  by  reason  of  its  flooding 


THE   PRAIRIE  CHICKEN 
(Pinnated  Grouse) 


The  Prairie-Hen 


the  nests  and  killing  the  young,  causes  by  far  the 
greatest  damage,  man  is  responsible  for  the  really 
heavy  mortality.  If  all  the  chickens  which  annu- 
ally fall  victims  to  the  legitimate  use  of  the  gun 
could  be  piled  in  one  heap,  the  mountain  of  meat 
would  be  quite  large  enough  to  make  most  people 
gasp  in  amazement.  Yet  so  productive  are  the 
birds,  and  so  broad  their  yet  available  ranges, 
that  with  rational  game  laws,  rigidly  enforced,  the 
sport  they  afford  might  be  indefinitely  prolonged. 
Unfortunately,  too  many  men  are  slow  to  under- 
stand the  necessity  for  only  killing  in  reason  and 
in  season.  In  far  too  many  instances  the  man 
who  abides  by  the  law  and  fares  forth  upon  the 
first  lawful  day  finds  that  some  sneaking  ruffian 
has  been  over  the  ground  in  advance  of  the  legiti- 
mate hour.  Nor  must  it  be  imagined  that  only 
the  needy  poacher  or  the  merciless  market  hunter 
is  to  blame.  To  their  shame  be  it  said  that  a 
host  of  well-to-do  and  apparently  respectable  citi- 
zens appear  to  look  upon  a  game  law  as  though 
they  imagined  it  to  be  a  sort  of  legal  sieve,  ex- 
pressly designed  for  something  to  be  strained 
through  it.  Just  why  some  men,  who  perhaps 
would  spend  their  last  blood  in  resenting  an  open 
attack  upon  their  honor,  can  sink  to  the  level  of 
a  sneak  thief  when  it  comes  to  a  question  of 
obeying  a  game  law,  I  am  unable  to  fathom. 
They  can  well  afford  to  wait,  they  cannot  truth- 


The  Prairie- Hen 


the  nests  and  killing  the  young,  causes  by  far  the 
greatest  damage,  man  is  responsible  for  the  really 
heavy  mortality.  If  all  the  chickens  which  annu- 
ally fall  victims  to  the  legitimate  use  of  the  gun 
could  be  piled  in  one  heap,  the  mountain  of  meat 
would  be  quite  large  enough  to  make  most  people 
gasp  in  amazement.  Yet  so  productive  are  the 
birds,  and  so  broad  their  yet  available  ranges, 
that  with  rational  game  laws,  rigidly  enforced,  the 
sport  they  afford  might  be  indefinitely  prolonged. 
Unfortunately,  too  many  men  are  slow  to  under- 
stand the  necessity  for  only  killing  in  reason  and 
in  season.  In  far  too  many  instances  the  man 
who  abides  by  the  law  and  fares  forth  upon  the 
first  lawful  day  finds  that  some  sneaking  ruffian 
has  been  over  the  ground  in  advance  of  the  legiti- 
mate hour.  Nor  must  it  be  imagined  that  only 
the  needy  poacher  or  the  merciless  market  hunter 
is  to  blame.  To  their  shame  be  it  said  that  a 
host  of  well-to-do  and  apparently  respectable  citi- 
zens appear  to  look  upon  a  game  law  as  though 
they  imagined  it  to  be  a  sort  of  legal  sieve,  ex- 
pressly designed  for  something  to  be  strained 
through  it.  Just  why  some  men,  who  perhaps 
would  spend  their  last  blood  in  resenting  an  open 
attack  upon  their  honor,  can  sink  to  the  level  of 
a  sneak  thief  when  it  comes  to  a  question  of 
obeying  a  game  law,  I  am  unable  to  fathom. 
They  can  well  afford  to  wait,  they  cannot  truth- 


The  Grouse  Family 

fully  plead  either  ignorance  or  necessity,  yet 
when  the  test  comes  they  are  as  rotten  as  the 
stinking  birds  which  foul  their  lawless  trail,  for 
they  never  durst  take  home  their  game.  It  is  my 
misfortune  to  have  met  some  of  these  men,  to 
have  heard  their  smug  boastings  of  how  in  their 
small  rascality  they  evaded  this  game  warden,  or 
tipped  (bribed  is  the  proper  word)  that  one ;  and 
the  boasters  never  appeared  to  realize  how  truly 
their  own  testimony  damned  them  in  the  opinion 
of  sportsmen  of  the  True  Blue  Lodge,  which,  like 
that  other  great  Lodge,  sternly  holds  each  brother 
to  the  leal,  the  fair,  and  the  clean.  Perhaps  better 
things  are  coming.  Peradventure  a  broader  reali- 
zation of  what  constitutes  true  sportsmanship  may 
yet  eradicate  that  disease  known  as  illegal  shoot- 
ing. 'Twill  be  better  so !  I  have  seen  that  dis- 
ease break  out  within  the  supposed  to  be  sacred 
circles  of  Drug  and  Bench  and  Bar  and  Pen  and 
Sword  —  yea!  even  in  the  Church  —  and  I  have 
marvelled  at  the  mote  detectors  who  saw  not  the 
beam  they  bore. 

The  prairie  fires  are  mainly  due  to  the  bucolic 
custom  of  firing  the  grass  in  the  spring.  Other 
fires  are  caused  by  sparks  from  engines,  and  a 
few  by  sheer  carelessness  on  the  part  of  some 
smoker  or  rubbish  burner.  So  far  as  the  farm- 
ers are  concerned,  they  might  better  burn  their 
grass  in  the  fall  and  avoid  spoiling  eggs.  In 


A  Match  at  Chickens  177 

these  days,  with  men  ready  to  pay  well  for  good 
shooting,  a  wise  farmer  can  make  his  chicken 
crop  quite  a  profitable  item  —  certainly  one  well 
worth  taking  care  of.  If  grass  has  to  be  burnt, 
it  should  be  late  in  the  fall.  This  means  a  better 
growth  next  season  and  without  any  particular 
damage.  The  other  fires  come  under  the  head 
of  accidents  which  will  continue  as  long  as 
mortals  remain  careless  and  engines  are  allowed 
to  belch  forth  sparks. 

In  regard  to  trapping,  little  need  be  said.  Vigor- 
ous, efficient  game  wardens  will  in  time  suppress 
much  of  it.  In  any  event  the  writer  has  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  taking  the  chances  of  spread- 
ing possibly  pernicious  literature,  by  describing 
in  detail  the  several  forms  of  traps  which  he  has 
found  and  kicked  to  flinders,  or  otherwise  put  out 
of  commission.  The  other  foes,  furred,  feathered, 
and  scaled,  will  meet  their  end  as  settlement 
increases. 

A   MATCH    AT   CHICKENS 

My  second  visit  to  the  western  club  which 
had  kindly  extended  the  guest's  privilege  was 
productive  of  a  big  surprise.  The  colonel  was 
in  the  library,  and,  as  usual,  was  surrounded  by 
a  half-dozen  grinning  members,  for  the  colonel 
was  a  character,  and  when  he  opened  his  mouth 
there  were  liberated  words  of  huge  wisdom  and 
exceeding  joy. 


178  The  Grouse  Family 

"  There  he  is  now ! "  exclaimed  somebody, 
whereupon  the  colonel  at  once  rose  and,  looking 
very  wise,  signed  for  me  to  follow  him  into  a 
private  room.  He  tapped  the  table,  muttered 
"  Sit  down,"  and  then  took  his  stand  directly  in 
front.  He  was  good  to  look  at,  the  colonel  was. 
Full  six  feet  three,  and  powerfully  built,  he 
carried  himself  with  that  military  back  which 
some  old  warriors  never  lose.  His  long,  snow- 
white  hair,  mustache,  and  imperial  suggested  the 
South,  which  was  his  home,  while  the  keen  black 
eyes  and  clean-cut,  extraordinarily  handsome  fea- 
tures stamped  him  as  one  of  F.F.V.'s.  Nor  did 
his  appearance  belie  him,  for  the  colonel  was  one 
of  the  genuine  old  fire-eating,  high-bred  lot 

"  I've  matched  you,  suh,"  he  began,  in  a  deep 

voice,  "  to  shoot  against  young  M in  the  field, 

any  game  recognized  as  such  to  count.  It's  to  be 
a  fa-ah,  squa-ah,  gentlemanly  contest,  and  the  best 
man  is  to  win.  Have  I  done  right,  suh  ?  —  I 
couldn't  send  you  word." 

"  But,  Colonel,  —  "I  began,  then  hesitated,  for 
his  bronzed  face  was  perceptibly  flushing  and  the 
snowy  mustache  was  beginning  to  bristle  in  an 
extraordinary  manner. 

"Well,  suh?  —  Do  you  desiah  to  —  to  —  back 
out?" 

Something  in  the  slight  emphasis  upon  the 
final  words  was  pregnant  with  unpleasant  possi- 


A  Match  at  Chickens  179 

bilities,  so  the  only  thing  left  was  to  mutter  some- 
thing about  every  gentleman  being  entitled  to  a 
run  for  his  money,  and  to  assume  a  cheerfulness 
not  caused  by  a  chunk  of  ice  down  one's  spine. 

"  Then  it's  a  go  —  shake ! "  exclaimed  the 
colonel,  and  he  added,  with  truly  majestic  impres- 

siveness :  "  By suh !  we'll  win !  I  have  never 

yet  made  a  match  of  my  own  seeking  and  lost, 
suh!  It's  only  a  dinnah  for  six  gentlemen  and 
a  trifling  side  bit,  but  we'll  win  it.  We'll  show 
them  that  an  Englishman  is  game  off  his  own 
dunghill." 

The  crafty  old  devil  slewed  an  eye  round  to  see 
how  the  deliberately  intended  prod  operated,  then 
he  smiled  like  the  white-headed  old  reprobate  he 
was.  Some  needful  discussion  followed,  and  suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  an  early  start  the  following 
morning  was  agreed  upon. 

"  How  you  gunned  ? "  he  finally  inquired,  and 
I  assured  him  that  the  gun  was  all  right,  which 
was  true. 

"  Go  get  it  —  I  always  attend  to  detail,  suh,"  he 
concluded. 

When  the  case  was  opened  and  the  gun  put 
together  and  passed  round  for  inspection,  I  could 
almost  have  laughed.  The  other  party  to  the 
wager  almost  snatched  at  it,  and  it  did  not  require 
his  sly  wink  to  a  friend,  or  his  ill-concealed  satis- 
faction as  he  politely  returned  the  gun,  to  tell  that 


i8o  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

he  had  fallen  into  a  grievous  error.  Not  so  the 
colonel.  He  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the 
flawless  finish,  tried  one  lock  close  to  his  ear, 
glanced  through  the  gleaming  tubes,  then  laid  it 
down  without  a  word  of  comment.  But  there  was 
the  faintest  of  quivers  of  one  eyelid  which  spoke 
volumes. 

And  well  might  he  be  pleased,  for  never  in  his 
life  had  he  fingered  the  like  of  that  beautiful 
seven-pound  arm,  my  one  serious  extravagance 
and  the  finest  thing  of  the  kind  which  a  world- 
famous  maker  could  build. 

"We'll  out-gun  'em  fo'  shuah,"  he  said,  then 
hastily  added,  "  Hello !  here  comes  your  rival." 

The  introduction  and  totally  unnecessary  ex- 
planations followed,  and,  after  the  manner  of  men, 
we  looked  each  other  over.  There  is  a  certain 
mesmeric,  or  other  influence  in  a  cool,  deliberate 
scrutiny,  and  the  other  fellow  assuredly  got  all  that 
was  coming  to  him,  for  the  writer  was  not  ignorant 
of  match-making.  The  rival  was  a  tall,  slender, 
handsome  young  fellow,  straight  as  a  rush. 

"  West  Point,  Mr.  M ?  "  I  ventured,  after  a 

moment. 

"  Hardly  that—  yet?  he  retorted,  and  a  flicker 
of  something  very  like  a  faint  sneer  for  an  instant 
played  about  his  mouth.  He  examined  the  gun, 
and  again  the  mouth  told  the  same  story,  although 
outwardly  he  was  the  perfection  of  good  breeding. 


A  Match  at  Chickens  181 

"  You're  a  bit  overfond  of  yourself,  my  bold 
Bucko,"  was  my  inward  comment. 

Somehow,  after  chatting  for  an  hour  or  so 
among  pleasant  company,  the  match  did  not 
appear  hopeless,  although  the  talk  proved  that 

young  M was  considered  a  tearing  fine  shot. 

Just  what  he  thought  about  it,  of  course,  was  un- 
fathomable, but  his  jauntiness  did  seem  to  have  a 
certain  forced  air.  In  fact,  the  man  did  not  ring 
true. 

"  Come,  time  to  turn  in,"  at  last  said  the  colonel, 
and  we  walked  away  together.  Then  for  half  an 
hour  I  listened  to  the  counsel  of  a  man  who  could 
outgamble  and  outbluff  all  his  friends ;  who  was 
a  master  at  most  games  of  hazard,  and  who 
thoroughly  understood  how  to  get  the  last  ounce 
out  of  any  man  he  stood  behind.  "  Mark  my 
words,  suh,"  he  concluded,  "  I  know  the  man. 
Well  ahead,  he's  a  wondah ;  even,  he's  only  ordi- 
nary; and  once  behind,  he's  beat.  Give  it  to 
him  from  the  start,  and  keep  on  giving  it  to  him. 
No  matter  if  you're  behind,  keep  after  him,  and 
remember  he's  liable  to  come  back  to  you  any 
minute.  We've  got  him  beat  as  sure  as  sunrise. 
Now  go  get  your  sleep,  and  don't  you  worry. 
Leave  it  to  me,  suh." 

Promptly  on  time  the  wagon  drove  up,  the 
colonel  tooling  a  pair  of  grand  blacks.  In  the 
rear  seat  sat  M and  his  friend,  and  between 


1 82  The  Grouse  Family 

their  feet  was  a  fine  Irish  setter.  In  front  was  the 
colonel,  chipper  as  a  boy,  and  beside  him  a  mag- 
nificent heavy  pointer.  The  keen  eyes  gave  me 
one  searching  glance,  then  gleamed  with  satisfac- 
tion, for  sleep  had  been  what  it  should  be,  and  he 
at  once  recognized  the  fact.  In  a  moment  we 
were  off,  and  within  an  hour  we  had  reached  the 
first  ground,  a  series  of  vast  natural  pastures  with 
brushy  hills  beyond.  The  dogs  were  started,  and 
as  they  raced  away,  the  colonel  said :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  to  shoot  in  turn  and  to 
order.  When  I  say  '  Go,'  the  gentleman  whose 
turn  it  happens  to  be  must  either  protest  there 
and  then,  or  take  what  flushes,  providing  it  be  a 
game  bird  within  a  reasonable  distance.  There 
will  be  no  appeal  after  either  gentleman  has  fired 

his  gun.  Mr.  M ,  your  friend  has  won  the 

toss,  and  he  wants  first  shot.  You  will  use  both 
barrels  if  you  see  fit ;  a  bad  shell  will  be  '  no  bird,' 
and  a  fair  bird  allowed  to  go  unshot  at  will  be 
1  lost.'  Do  you  understand,  gentlemen  ?  " 

We  signified  that  we  thoroughly  understood, 
and  the  team  followed  the  dogs,  which  were  tack- 
ing far  away.  It  soon  developed  that  the  dogs 
were  having  a  private  match  of  their  own.  The 
red  fellow,  lean  and  hard  and  devil-may-care, 
like  the  true  Hibernian  he  was,  kept  shaking  out 
links  until  he  got  to  racing  speed  —  and  such 
speed!  On  and  on  he  flew,  cutting  out  his 


A  Match  at  Chickens  183 

ground  with  a  beautiful  precision  which  spoke 
eloquently  of  careful  breaking  and  regular  work. 
But  fast  and  game  as  he  was,  he  had  a  worthy 
rival.  The  big  pointer — white  as  marble  with 
the  brand  of  the  old  blood,  a  lemon  head  — 
matched  him  stride  for  stride,  going  with  a  snap 
and  dash  which  augured  ill  for  any  dog  at  the 
close  of  a  day. 

At  length  the  white  dog  swerved  from  a  cross- 
wind  tack  and  went  bounding  up-wind  for  per- 
haps one  hundred  yards.  Then  his  gallop  slowed 
to  a  trot,  the  trot  to  a  walk,  and  with  head  and 
tail  raised  high  above  the  line  of  his  back,  he 
grandly  drifted  to  his  anchorage.  Big  and  white, 
he  loomed  large  above  the  grass  —  a  glorious 
image  of  steadfast  purpose,  which  might  well  have 
been  carved  from  rarest  marble  by  some  master 
hand  of  old.  Presently  the  red  fellow  swung 
about,  and,  instantly  -  grasping  the  situation, 
stopped  almost  in  a  stride.  He  too  might  have 
passed  for  some  graven  image,  were  it  not  that 
the  breeze  rippled  the  silken  feather  of  his  quiver- 
ing stern. 

"  Out  with  you,  gentleman.  You're  first,  Mr. 

M- "  said  the  colonel,  as  we  descended.  In 

a  moment  the  "  twelve  "  was  snapped  together,  but 

M seemed  to  have  a  trifle  of  trouble.  He 

muttered  something  to  his  friend,  dropped  a  shell, 
picked  it  up,  and  showed  a  slightly  heightened 


1 84  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

color.  The  colonel  solemnly  winked  a  wicked 
eye,  but  made  no  comment,  so  we  marched  toward 
the  pointer,  the  team  walking  close  behind. 

M carried  his  gun  over  his  shoulder  with 

the  guard  upward,  his  hand  clenched  on  the  grip. 
It  was  a  big  ten-gauge,  and  by  the  finish  of  it  an 
expensive  arm,  and  by  a  famous  American  firm. 
To  be  candid,  the  combination  looked  decidedly 
formidable.  The  method  of  carrying,  while  a 
common  one  among  chicken  shooters,  was  to  me 
a  novelty,  and  I  wondered  what  sort  of  a  wrist 
the  man  had  who  would  whirl  such  a  gun  to  the 
firing  position.  Subsequent  experience  proved  the 
trick  to  be  very  easy,  but  it  has  the  decidedly  bad 
tendency  to  make  a  man  undershoot  a  swiftly 
rising  bird. 

Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  M stopped  when 

within  a  couple  of  yards  of  the  dog,  and  set  him- 
self as  a  man  will  when  at  score.  Glancing  ahead, 
I  saw  a  small  upright  object  which  looked  exactly 
like  a  striped  gopher  erect  upon  his  haunches. 
Presently  another  and  another  defined  themselves 
among  the  grass,  and  I  realized  that  a  number 
of  chickens  were  squatting  within  a  zone  of  about 
twenty  yards. 

"  Burr-urr ! "  up  went  a  thing  as  big  as  a  hen, 
but  it  sped  away  at  a  very  fair  rate.  Instantly 
M 's  gun  was  levelled,  but  instead  of  the  ex- 
pected prompt  report,  he  held  on  and  on,  till  it 


A  Match  at  Chickens  185 

seemed  he  never  would  shoot  At  last  the  big 
gun  roared,  the  chicken  went  down  like  a  wet 
rag,  and  I  also  "  tumbled  "  to  something !  This 
man  understood  the  game,  he  knew  he  had  a  hard- 
shooting  gun,  and  he  had  faced  the  traps.  Still, 
his  method  lacked  finish,  and  all  things  consid- 
ered there  was  nothing  very  alarming  about  the 
performance,  for  it  really  seemed  as  though  a 
clever  sprinter  might  have  broken  shot  and 
caught  the  fowl.  Appearances,  however,  are 
deceptive. 

"  Go ! "  said  an  unmistakable  voice,  and  at 
the  sound  of  it  there  was  a  roar  of  wings  and 
half  a  dozen  birds  flushed.  Two  bore  to  the 
right,  and  to  cut  the  head  off  the  first  and  repeat 
on  the  slow  follower  was  easy  enough. 

"  Good  boy !  well  done,  suh !  "  exclaimed  the 
colonel,  then  we  gathered  the  birds  and  handed 

them  over.  M 's  was  fairly  well  peppered, 

while  one  of  the  others  was  minus  the  head  and 
most  of  the  neck.  The  colonel  grunted  at  the 
sight  and  looked  earnestly  at  me,  but  I  could 
make  nothing  of  his  expression.  Again  we  moved 
on,  and  to  make  short  a  long  story,  we  were  fairly 
settled  down  to  work  with  the  kills  even  at  nine 
straight.  Three  more  of  mine  were  headless, 
and  as  we  went  to  another  point,  I  heard  the 
colonel  say  — "  Wish  he'd  hit  one  squarely,  I'd 
dearly  like  to  see  what  the  little  gun  can  do." 


1 86  The  Grouse  Family 

Still  I  failed  to  divine  his  drift,  but  the  next 
chicken  brought  light.  The  shot  was  a  square, 
crossing  chance  and,  to  my  amazement,  the  slow 
bird  flew  straight  ahead  —  clean  missed  !  In- 
stantly I  knew  the  gun  had  been  too  far  ahead, 
and  then  there  came  the  proper  translation  of  the 
colonel's  remark  —  he  had  been  fearful  of  just 
what  had  happened,  and  he  had  tried  to  convey 
as  much  to  me  without  going  beyond  what  he 
considered  the  limit  of  strict  fairness.  I  stole  a 
glance  at  him  and  saw  that  his  face  was  very,  red, 
and  that  the  white  mustache  was  bristling  in  a 

marvellous  fashion.  M killed  his  next  bird, 

which  placed  him  one  ahead,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  his  sneering  expression  as  he  glanced 
at  his  friend. 

On  the  instant  came  the  remembrance  of  the 
colonel's  warning  against  allowing  him  to  get  the 
lead,  and  I  realized  that  the  match  might  possi- 
bly be  lost  through  a  bit  of  sheer  folly.  There 
and  then  came  the  grim'  resolve  to  let  daylight 
in  abundance  through  every  succeeding  fowl  that 
offered.  The  next  one  got  it  squarely  in  the 
back  at  about  twenty-five  yards  and  the  works  of 
it  flew  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  The  next 
was  mashed  to  a  pulp,  and  the  next  would  hardly 
hold  together.  "  That's  the  right  way  to  kill 
chickens  —  meat  don't  count  in  a  match  !  "  re- 
marked the  colonel,  and  from  then  on  I  under- 


A  Match  at  Chickens  187 

stood.  But  M had  got  his  saving  lead,  he 

felt  he  was  a  winner,  and  shot  accordingly. 

As  the  thing  progressed,  the  strain  of  it  in- 
creased, and  finally  M missed.  Here  was  a 

chance ;  but,  alas !  only  a  few  feathers  answered 
the  small  gun's  appeal,  and  the  score  remained  as 
it  had  been.  By  this  time  the  prairie  had  been 
thoroughly  worked,  so  it  was  agreed  to  go  to  an- 
other about  a  mile  away.  Barring  the  path  thither 
lay  a  long  slope  of  scrub,  and  near  its  foot  was 
what  looked  like  a  wall  of  tall  thicket;  beyond 
that  a  broad  stubble.  The  colonel  cracked  his 
whip,  a  thing  he  was  seldom  known  to  do,  and 
the  spirited  team  sped  away  like  wild  horses. 

"I  say,  Colonel!"  exclaimed  M 's  friend, 

"  hadn't  we  better  keep  up  to  the  ridge  ?  It's  all 
clear  up  there ; "  and  there  was  a  decided  tone 
of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"  Not  worth  while  turning  now ;  why  didn't  you 
speak  back  yonder  ?  "  responded  the  colonel,  who 
seemed  to  have  all  he  could  do  to  hold  his  nags. 
Verily,  the  colonel  knew  what  he  was  about ! 

Near  the  thicket  the  team  steadied,  and  we  saw 
the  dogs  busy  over  some  ground-scent.  "  Whoa !  " 
said  the  colonel. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  move  on  ?  "  said  M and 

his  friend  in  one  breath.  "  There's  lots  of  birds 
up- 

"There's  a  point  — -  steady,  you!"   roared   the 


1 88  The  Grouse  Family 

colonel,  and  we  saw  the  white  dog  fixed  and 
the  red  fellow  drawing  to  him. 

"  H 1 !  "  said  M 's  friend  under  his  breath. 

"  Your  shot,  suh !  "  said  the  colonel,  bowing  to 
me,  and  again  an  eyelid  quivered. 

As  I  neared  the  dogs  I  wondered,  for  it  was 
not  a  likely  spot  for  chickens.  The  explanation 
was  sudden.  "  Birr-birr-birr !  "  Not  chickens,  but 
thirty-odd  quail  stormed  up  out  of  the  grass,  and 
in  an  instant  I  was  at  home.  To  a  man  trained 
in  the  hottest  corner  of  western  Ontario,  where 
the  timber  is  heavy,  this  cover  seemed  but  a 
trifle,  and  I  felt  like  Wellington  did  when  he 
heard  Bliicher's  guns.  A  brace  of  birds  fell,  were 
retrieved,  and  the  dogs  ordered  on. 

"  I  say,  Colonel,"  remarked  M 's  friend, 

crisply,  "let's  get  out  of  this  wretched  stuff,  the 
match  is  at  chickens,  you  know ! " 

The  colonel  stopped  the  team,  turned  about 
slowly,  looked  steadily  at  each  of  us  in  turn,  and 
gravely  asked,  "  The  match  —  is  —  at  —  what 
—  suh?" 

"  At  chickens ;  that  is,  as  /  understand  it," 
replied  M 's  friend,  somewhat  confusedly. 

"  Mr.  M ,  did  you  so  understand  it  ?  "  asked 

the  colonel,  very  slowly. 

"I  —  well  —  no-o-o  !  But  this  is  miserable 

ground.  I'm  sure  Mr.  S don't  fancy  it. 

Like  to  see  him  have  a  clean,  fair  chance,  you 


A  Match  at  Chickens  189 

know,"  responded  M ,  looking  extremely  un- 
easy. 

"  Mr.  S ,  what  do  you  say,  are  you  afraid  of 

a  trifle  of  cover  ? "  continued  the  arch  villain. 

"  Me,  why,  no !  Anything  will  suit  me,"  I 
replied  sweetly;  for  at  that  instant  I  saw  the 
white  dog  stiffen,  and  I  winked  a  warning. 

The  colonel's  turning  about  was  a  masterpiece 
of  acting,  for  he  really  was  in  a  deuce  of  a  fidget. 
Slowly  he  settled  in  his  seat ;  slowly  his  keen  eye 
roved  along  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  till  he  saw 
the  white  cause  of  my  wink.  Too  clever  by  far 
even  then  to  make  a  mistake,  he  remarked :  — 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  as  Mr.  S has  no  objec- 
tion, we'll  go  to  the  grass  again.  Very  handsome 

of  him,  I'm  shu-ah,  as  by  rights  Mr.  M should 

have  at  least  two  tries  at  quail.  However  —  " 

He  actually  had  made  a  bluff  at  turning  the 
team,  when  I  sung  out,  "  Look  yonder !  Is  that 
dog  pointing  ? " 

"  Point,  gentlemen  !  Your  turn,  Mr.  M " 

quoth  the  colonel,  with  an  air. 

Poor  M !  He  didn't  fancy  it  and  his  face 

clearly  showed  it,  while  his  friend  looked  black  as 
thunder.  Down  he  went  to  his  doom.  There 
was  no  time  for  holding  on ;  the  birds  whizzed 
for  cover,  and  he  had  to  hurry.  Result  —  as  clean 
a  miss  as  man  could  make. 

"  Point !    One  more  to  even  things,  Mr.  M ," 


190  The  Grouse  Family 

said  the  colonel,  looking  as  solemn  as  a  red-faced 
owl. 

Once  more  poor  M failed ;  he  had  no  heart 

for  the  task,  and  a  dainty  brown  hen  whirred  to 
safety. 

"Now,  gentlemen,  for  the  open,"  said  the 
colonel,  and  he  shook  up  his  team  as  though 
his  sole  anxiety  was  to  find  the  biggest,  laziest 
grouse  in  the  state.  He  was  anxious,  too,  for 
there  is  nothing  like  getting  a  short-tempered 
man  to  try  to  do  something  when  he's  hot. 

"  Point !  Yours,  Mr.  S ,"  he  sung  out  half 

an  hour  later,  and  that  particular  chicken  might 
have  served  as  the  title-deed  to  a  lead  mine.  Up 
sprang  another,  and  it  flew  into  four  bits. 

"  Go  !  "  said  he  to  M ,  who  promptly  went 

—  to  pieces ! 

Never  was  seen  a  worse  case  of  genuine  quit, 
and  suffice  it  to  say,  after  three  perfectly  inex- 
cusable misses,  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "I  —  I 

—  give  it  up.     I'm  not  feeling  very  well." 

At  the  club.  The  colonel,  if  possible,  more 
suave  and  debonair  than  usual. 

"  Yes,  suh,  &?<?-tiful  match,  suh ;  one  of  the 
finest  ever  I  saw,  suh !  They  outgunned  us  a 
bit,  suh,  the  big  ( ten '  against  a  poor  little 
'twelve,'  but  my  young  friend  is  quick,  suh, 
remarkably  quick,  suh,  and  that  helped,  espe- 


A  Match  at  Chickens  191 

cially  on  some  quail  which  we  accidentally  found. 
Yes,  suh,  with  pleasure,  I'm  shu-ah  ;  and  my  young 
friend  ?  You  know  my  young  friend  ?  Aw,  beg 
pawdon  !  Mr.  H ,  allow  me,  Mr.  S ." 

Three  hours  later  he  said  in  strictest  confidence, 
"  I  always  liked  the  English,  Southern,  you  know, 
—  I  always  preferred  a  pointer,  got  one,  you 
know,  —  and  I've  always  fancied  a  small  gun, 
quicker,  you  know,  —  and  I've  never  lost  a  match 
of  my  own  making,  suh,  never,  suh  ! " 

As  we  walked  home  together,  he  said,  "  Now, 
my  deah  boy,  listen  to  me.  I've  offered  a  return 
match  at  those  chickens  —  which  we  wont  get. 
Mark  my  word,  suh,  we'll  never  get  it.  But,"  — 
and  he  paused,  "  you  saw  that  square-jawed  man, 
with  the  cropped  mustache,  didn't  you  ?  Well, 
we'll  receive,  suh,  a  bluff  from  that  quarter,  suh, 
yes,  suh,  —  a  bhtff from  that  quarter!  " 

"And  —  ?"  I  ventured. 

"  We'll  decline  it,  suh,  yes,  decline  it !  That 
man's  square-jawed,  suh,  he  don't  know  how  to 
weaken,  suh,  —  besides  —  he  can  beat  the  devil, 
suh,  y-e-s,  beat  the  devil !  " 

"  You  never  make  a  match  on  wine,  do  you  ?  " 
he  anxiously  inquired,  as  we  reached  the  parting 
of  the  ways. 

"  Never !  "  I  replied,  laughing,  for  the  colonel's 
face  was  very  red. 

"  A  good  rule,  suh,  —  an  excellent  rule  !     Some 


192  The  Grouse  Family 

young  fellows  make  fool  —  but,  there,  I've  said 
enough,  suh,  quite  enough.     Good  night,  suh." 

"  Good  night,  and  many  thanks,  Colonel,"  I 
sung  after  him,  then  I  laughed  softly,,  for  he  dis- 
tinctly lurched  —  once. 

THE    HEATH-HEN 

(Tympanuchus  cupidd) 

Once  a  numerous  species  on  most  of  the  suita- 
ble ground  of  Massachusetts,  New  Jersey,  Con- 
necticut, and  Long  Island,  the  heath-hen  is  now 
confined  to  a  region  of  oak  and  pine  scrub  of  the 
island  known  as  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  lying  off 
the  Massachusetts  coast.  Only  by  its  smaller  size 
can  this  bird  readily  be  distinguished  from  T. 
americanus.  The  call,  love-making,  eggs,  young, 
and  general  habits  are  so  similar  that  they  need 
not  be  dwelt  upon.  Scientists  have  discovered 
slight  differences  in  plumage,  especially  in  the 
sharper  plumage  of  the  neck-tufts,  and  the  large, 
terminal  pale  buff  spots  on  the  scapulars.  To  the 
ordinary  eye  T.  cupido  would  readily  pass  for  an 
undersized  bird  from  the  prairie. 

Owing  to  the  pressure  of  eastern  civilization, 
the  birds  have  retreated  to  their  last  stronghold, 
a  tract  of  about  fifty  square  miles.  This  is  a 
region  of  almost  impregnable  cover,  wherein,  with 
proper  protection,  the  birds  may  thrive  for  an 
indefinite  period.  As  may  readily  be  imagined, 


The  Sharp-tailed  Grouse  193 

they  are  of  interest  to  sportsmen  merely  as  the 
melancholy  remnant  of  an  almost  lost  race. 

THE    LESSER    PRAIRIE-HEN 
(T.  pallidicinctus) 

Beyond  a  somewhat  paler  tone  of  plumage,  this 
bird  has  little  to  distinguish  it  from  T.  americanus, 
although  it  has  been  considered  a  separate  race. 
Its  range  includes  southwestern  Kansas,  the  Indian 
Territory,  and  western  Texas.  Throughout  much 
of  this  territory  it  is  very  abundant,  and  it  furnishes 
excellent  sport. 

ATTWATER'S  PRAIRIE-HEN 

(T.  attivateri) 

This  race  of  T.  americanus  is  peculiar  to  the 
coast  region  of  Louisiana  and  Texas.  It  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  almost  bare  tarsus,  and  a  square- 
ness of  the  ends  of  the  feathers  composing  the 
neck-tufts. 

THE    SHARP-TAILED    GROUSE 
(Pediocetes  phasianellus) 

Adult  male  —  Entire  upper  parts,  black,  with  many  narrow  bars  of 
buff,  and  buff  mottlings ;  bars  on  rump  and  upper  tail-coverts, 
paler  buff;  wings,  like  back,  with  broad,  central  white  streaks 
on  scapulars,  coverts,  spotted  with  white ;  secondaries,  barred 
and  tipped  with  white ;  primaries,  dark  brown,  outer  webs  show- 
ing evenly  distributed  white  spots ;  under  parts,  white,  spotted 
with  black  on  throat  and  front  of  neck,  and  broad  V-shaped 
marks  of  blackish  brown  near  the  centre  of  the  feathers,  most 


194  The  Grouse  Family 

distinct  and  numerous  upon  breast  and  flanks,  and  paling  and 
decreasing  in  size  as  they  near  the  abdomen;  long,  central 
feathers  of  tail,  black,  irregularly  barred  with  pale  buff  and 
white,  remainder  of  feathers,  white;  under  tail-coverts,  white, 
with  a  dark  brown  streak  along  shafts  of  some.  Legs  and  toes, 
covered  with  hairlike,  pale  brown  feathers;  bill,  dark  horn. 
Total  length,  about  16  inches;  wing,  8* ;  tail,  to  end  of  elon- 
gated central  feathers,  5|.  Female,  like  the  male,  but  usually  a 
trifle  smaller.  Downy  young,  very  pretty  —  upper  parts,  buff, 
with  irregular  spots  and  lines  of  black ;  under  parts,  light  yel- 
low, washed  on  breast  with  buff.  Range  —  Canadian  provinces, 
from  Lake  Superior  and  Hudson  Bay  to  Fort  Simpson. 

This  sturdy  and  valuable  game-bird  is  seldom, 
if  ever,  found  below  52°  south,  which  means  that 
it  must  be  considered  a  purely  Canadian  species. 
It  has  been  taken  as  high  as  69°  of  north  latitude, 
and  occasionally  on  some  of  the  eastern  slopes  of 
the  Rockies,  but  there  is  no  authentic  record  of 
its  having  been  seen  west  of  that  range.  Near  its 
southern  limit  it  intergrades  with  the  better-known 
race,  P.  p.  columbianus,  which  it  so  closely  re- 
sembles that  only  a  trained  eye  would  note  the 
difference  —  a  general  darker  cast  of  plumage. 

THE    COLUMBIAN    SHARP-TAILED    GROUSE 
(P.  p.  columbianus} 

This  is  the  well-known  "  pintail"  and  "  spike- 
tail  "  grouse  of  sporting  lore.  It  is  a  race  of  the 
preceding  species,  distinguished  by  a  paler  tone 
of  the  upper  parts,  and  by  having  the  toes  bare 
instead  of  feathered.  Its  habits  closely  resemble 


The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse       195 

those  of  the  pinnated  grouse.  During  the  love- 
making  season  it  holds  similar  gatherings  at 
dawn,  and  performs  the  same  curious  antics,  in- 
termingled with  furious  battles  for  possession  of 
the  females.  The  males  also  have  well-developed 
neck-sacs,  which  they  inflate  and  exhaust  like 
the  pinnated  grouse.  The  sound  produced,  how- 
ever, is  more  broken,  and  lacks  the  booming 
volume  so  characteristic  of  the  effort  of  the  male 
prairie-hen.  Its  range  includes  the  eastern 
Rocky  Mountains,  from  Montana  and  Wyoming 
to  Oregon  and  Washington,  northward  and  along 
mountains  to  central  Alaska.  The  nest  and  eggs 
are  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  those  of  the 
prairie-hen ;  the  young  are  equally  active,  and 
their  food  is  about  the  same.  At  the  approach 
of  cold  weather  they  pack  and  become  wilder. 
After  the  winter  has  fairly  set  in,  the  packs  take 
to  whatever  timber  they  can  find  in  their  vicinity, 
and  while  they  may  be  seen  perched  in  the  dis- 
tance, they  will  seldom  allow  a  gun  to  approach 
within  range.  When  flushed,  like  its  nearest  kin, 
it  utters  a  croaking  cluck,  repeated  several  times. 

THE    PRAIRIE    SHARP-TAILED    GROUSE 
(P.  p.  compestris) 

So  close  is  the  resemblance  between  this  and 
the  preceding  race  that  a  detailed  description  is 
unnecessary.  Its  present  range  includes  the 


196  The  Grouse  Family 

prairies  east  of  the  Rockies  from  Montana  to 
New  Mexico,  and  from  Wisconsin  and  Illinois  to 
Colorado.  Among  sportsmen  it  is  known  as 
"pintail,"  "  sharptail,"  and  "  whitebelly,"  and  by 
many,  including  the  writer,  it  is  deemed  a  bet- 
ter bird  than  the  pinnated  grouse,  from  which, 
in  habits,  it  presents  no  marked  variation.  It  is 
extremely  probable  that  this  species  was  once 
abundant  much  farther  east  than  its  present  limit, 
but  it  has  drifted  before  the  advance  of  agricul- 
tural operations  until  it  has  come  to  be  considered 
as  being  peculiarly  a  bird  of  the  great  grassy 
opens.  Early  in  the  season  it  sticks  to  the  grass, 
but  so  soon  as  the  air  becomes  sharp  it  hangs 
more  and  more  about  brushy  slopes  and  ravines, 
or  clumps  of  small  timber.  Upon  a  crisp  morn- 
ing the  birds  may  be  seen  by  dozens  in  the  trees, 
upon  stacks,  and  frequently  upon  the  roofs  of 
outbuildings. 

The  love-making  antics  ("  chicken  dances "  of 
the  settlers)  are,  if  anything,  more  absurd  than 
the  performances  of  the  pinnated  grouse.  They 
are  marked  by  the  same  curious  strutting  and 
posturing,  and  furious  battles,  while  the  noise  of 
the  excited  males  may  be  heard  far  across  the 
open.  Occasionally  this  booming  is  heard  late 
in  the  season,  the  writer  having  noted  it  upon 
several  occasions  while  he  was  lawfully  seeking 
the  game. 


Tb 


The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse       197 


The  nest  is  placed  in  any  convenient  cover, 
brush  or  grass,  and  the  eggs  are  buff,  freckled 
with  reddish  brown.  The  average  number  is 
about  a  dozen,  and  only  one  brood  is  raised  in  a 
season.  The  female  is  a  careful  mother,  tending 
her  chicks  with  all  the  watchfulness  of  a  barnyard 
fowl ;  but  in  spite  of  her  devotion  and  the  activity 
and  cleverness  at  hiding  of  the  young,  a  large 
percentage  of  them  fall  victims  to  hawks  and 
snakes  and  foxes. 

It  has  been  claimed  by  more  than  one  well- 
known  expert  that  the  sharptail  and  pinnated 
grouse  are  bitter  foes,  but  this  I  am  inclined  to 
doubt.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  belief  among 
western  sportsmen  that  the  one  species  drives 
the  other  from  its  haunts,  but  believe  that  the 
true  reason  for  the  supplanting  of  one  species  by 
the  other  is  nothing  more  than  the  closer  settle- 
ment of  what  a  few  years  ago  were  wild  regions. 
In  other  words,  one  bird  follows  the  farmer,  while 
the  other  retreats  before  him.  Of  the  frequently 
mentioned  battles  between  the  two  birds,  I  must 
confess  ignorance,  having  never  seen  such  an 
encounter.  No  doubt  a  couple  of  love-mad  males 
would  fight  and  to  a  finish,  precisely  as  two  rival 
barnyard  cocks  will  fight  when  each  fancies  that 
the  other  is  invading  private  rights ;  but  that  the 
two  species  are  hostile  to  the  point  of  non-endur- 
ance of  a  close  proximity,  is,  to  say  the  least,  ques- 


198  The  Grouse  Family 

tionable.  Certain  it  is,  I  have  flushed  the  two 
species  close  together,  so  close,  that  upon  one 
occasion  I  dropped  a  pinnated  grouse  with  one 
barrel  and  a  sharptail  with  the  other.  It  is  pos- 
sible the  birds  might  shortly  before  have  been 
driven  from  opposite  points  of  the  compass  to  the 
common  cover,  but  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 
that  such  was  the  case.  Furthermore,  I  have 
seen  and  handled  birds  which,  so  far  as  could  be 
judged,  were  hybrids  —  the  product  of  a  union 
between  the  two,  which  would  suggest  that,  at 
least  occasionally,  the  alleged  hatchet  was  buried. 
Taken  all  in  all,  it  would  appear  that  altered 
conditions,  rather  than  any  unusual  hostility  be- 
tween the  species,  are  responsible  for  the  respec- 
tive retreat  and  advance. 

The  sport  afforded  by  this  grouse  is  of  a  very 
high  order.  At  the  opening  of  the  season  it  lies 
well  to  the  dog,  and  springs  with  the  usual  whirr 
of  wings,  at  the  same  time  uttering  a  vigorous 
clucking,  which  is  repeated  again  and  again  as 
the  birds  speed  away,  alternately  flapping  and 
sailing.  When  driven  to  brush,  they  very  fre- 
quently behave  not  unlike  quail,  flushing  close  at 
hand,  and  offering  the  prettiest  of  single  chances. 
The  flesh  is  excellent,  light-colored  in  young 
birds  and  darkening  with  age,  but  always  worthy 
of  a  place  on  the  board. 

Not  seldom,  as  one  nears  the  pointing  dog,  he 


Tbe  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse        199 

will  see  the  birds  squatted  in  the  grass  and,  per- 
haps, have  one  after  another  turn  and  run  a  few 
yards  before  taking  wing.  When  thus  seen  they 
are  very  handsome,  the  crest  is  raised,  and  the 
white  hinder  feathers  show  like  the  flag  of  a  deer, 
or  the  scut  of  a  cottontail  rabbit  Almost  invari- 
ably the  flush  is  straggling,  giving  a  quick  man 
a  fine  opportunity  for  scoring  again  and  again. 
At  the  proper  season,  z.e.  just  before  the  broods 
begin  to  pack  and  become  wary,  this  bird  affords 
sport  to  be  long  remembered.  I  have  enjoyed 
it  to  the  full,  and  know  of  nothing  better  for  a 
business-harassed  man  than  a  day  on  the  sunny 
open  with  the  sharptails  behaving  well.  Like 
all  prairie-grouse,  this  bird,  rising  close,  is  an 
easy  mark  for  whoever  has  learned  not  to  be  hur- 
ried by  the  sound  of  wings.  A  good  twelve- 
gauge,  properly  held,  should  stop  its  buzzing 
and  clucking  fully  three-fourths  of  all  reasonable 
chances. 

Once  I  spent  a  week  with  a  western  man  who 
was  that  rare  combination  of  dead  shot  and  micro- 
scopic observer.  He  was  semiscientific,  too,  and 
exceeding  wise  regarding  the  ways  of  bird  and 
beast.  One  glorious  day  the  pair  of  us  had  shot 
till  midafternoon,  and  were  lounging  on  a  little 
knoll  while  the  dogs  got  some  needed  rest. 
About  two  hundred  yards  away  was  a  small  hay- 
stack, perhaps  ten  feet  high.  It  happened  that 


200  The  Grouse  Family 

I  was  using,  by  request,  a  beautiful  seven-pound 
hammerless,  the  property  of  my  comrade.  It 
suited  me  to  perfection,  and  I  had  offered  a  stiff 
price  for  it,  but,  owing  to  its  having  been  pre- 
sented to  him,  he  would  not  sell.  Presently  he 
said,  "  See  those  two  sharptails  on  that  stack  — 
go  kill  'em  both,  and  I'll  give  you  that  gun  for 
nothing." 

"  I'll  take  you,"  I  retorted,  and  began  the  stalk. 
Contrary  to  all  expectations  the  birds  remained 
on  the  stack  until  I  had  approached  within  twenty 
yards.  They  were  beauties  as  they  stepped  about 
with  crests  perked  up,  tails  slightly  raised,  and 
furry  pantalettes  recklessly  displayed  in  a  most 
unladylike  manner.  Once  they  crossed,  and  I 
was  seized  with  a  diabolical  longing  to  blow  their 
heads  off  and  claim  the  gun,  but  they  were  too 
pretty  for  that.  From  the  rear  I  could  hear  my 
friend  bawling,  "  Look  out,  there !  Steady  now  ! 
Toho !  To-ho-o-o  !  Catch  'em  !  "  and  I  guessed 
he  was  getting  anxious  about  his  gun  and  was 
doing  his  best  to  induce  a  case  of  rattles.  Still 
the  fool  birds  minced  to  and  fro,  despite  my 
frantic  whistling  and  hissing  at  them.  To  go 
nearer  would  bring  me  too  close  to  the  stack, 
while  it  seemed  that  every  instant  they  must  fly. 

Only  those  who  have  undergone  periods  of 
nerve-racking  suspense  can  appreciate  my  sensa- 
tions. Suddenly,  and  precisely  when  I  was  sure 


The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse        201 

they  wouldn't,  they  took  wing.  A  quick  snap 
shattered  one,  and  at  the  instant  I  realized  the 
need  of  swift  action,  for  the  other  was  covered  by 
the  stack.  I  gave  a  wild  leap,  luckily  to  the  right 
side,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  bird  near  fifty  yards 
away,  pulled  on  general  principles,  and  saw  it  sail 
away  for  perhaps  one  hundred  yards.  Not  bother- 
ing over  watching  it  further,  I  picked  up  my  bird 
and  turned  laughing  toward  my  comrade,  for  the 
whole  thing,  of  course,  was  a  joke. 

He  was  propped  on  his  hands  and  toes,  and 
staring  in  the  direction  of  the  lost  grouse. 
"  Steady,  you ! "  I  shouted  at  him,  for  he  looked 
ridiculously  like  an  overgrown,  bobtailed  pointer. 
He  laughed  as  he  straightened,  but  the  laugh 
sounded  oddly. 

"  You  came  mighty  near  losing  this  gun ;  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  that  infernal  stack,  I'd  have  tum- 
bled the  pair  of  'em,"  I  continued  as  I  returned 
vhe  twelve-gauge. 

"  Ya-as,"  he  drawled,  "  I  came  mighty  near 
losing  the  gun.  I  was  certain  they'd  both  fool 
you,  they  usually  go  off  a  stack  like  that  one  that 
got  away." 

"  How  about  my  little  airy  prancing ;  ain't  I 
quite  a  mover  ?  " 

"  You  are  quite  a  bucking  broncho ;  I  had  no 
idea  a  two-hundred-pounder  could  be  so  nimble ; 
where'd  you  learn  such  tricks  ?  " 


202  The  Grouse  Family 

"  Eastern  woods,  my  boy,  on  turkeys  and  ruffed 
grouse  —  got  to  skip  around  trees,  drop  to  your 
knees,  shoot  from  hip,  sometimes  stand  on  your 
head  to  see  under  cover,"  I  retorted,  laughing. 
"  Now,  let's  have  a  bite  and  proceed ;  but  first  a 
health  to  that  sneaking  fowl,  for  he  cost  me  a 
gun." 

"  Here's  to  him,  for  he  cost  me  a  gun,"  said  my 
friend. 

I  noticed  the  slip,  but  it  appeared  to  require  no 
comment,  so  we  ate  our  sandwiches  and  prepared 
for  the  back  track. 

When  we  were  all  ready,  my  comrade  drew 
himself  up  very  straight,  and  remarked,  "  I'm  a 
poor  liar — that  gun's  yours  —  you  killed  that 
other  bird." 

"  Wh-a-a-t  ? "  I  gasped,  for  his  face  showed  that 
he  meant  what  he  said. 

"  I  feel  like  a  cur  —  forgive  me ;  let's  go  get  it, 
I  marked  it  down,"  he  continued. 

I  felt  something  like  a  huskie  myself,  and 
wished  the  bird  was  in  Hades,  but  he  insisted  on 
going  after  it,  so  we  went.  And  a  peculiar  thing 
happened.  He  had  marked  that  bird  as  only  a 
man  trained  on  the  plains  can  mark,  and  he  led 
the  way  for  two  hundred  yards  and  more,  straight 
to  where  the  ground  was  furrowed  by  what  ap- 
peared to  be  several  small,  caved-in  tunnels,  about 
big  enough  for  badger-works.  Near  these,  he 


The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse        203 

pointed  to  a  white  feather  clinging  to  a  weed. 
His  gun  was  in  the  rig,  and  suddenly  he  leaped 
to  one  side  and  shouted,  "  Shoot  —  shoot! " 

Something  appeared  to  be  slowly  moving  in 
a  tunnel,  so  I  snapped  at  it,  and  stood  peering 
through  the  smoke. 

"  You  got  him  —  shoot !  "  he  roared,  pointing 
to  one  side.  A  grouse's  wing  waved  in  the  grass 
and  some  white  thing  showed  at  which  I  promptly 
fired,  and  then  —  ye  gods!  of  all  the  infernal 
smells  that  ever  polluted  God's  glorious  oxygen 
that  was  the  elixir.  Actually  it  seemed  as  though 
a  blue  haze  steamed  up  out  of  the  grass,  and  the 
first  fair  whiff  of  it  made  my  olfactories  tingle. 
Had  those  burrows  penetrated  to  the  hot  here- 
after, and  the  odor  been  the  essence  of  all  the 
evil  ever  committed,  it  couldn't  have  stunk  worse, 
and  coming  as  it  did,  on  the  pure,  thin  air,  which 
drifted  from  the  taintless  polar  silence,  it  was  a 
horror  indescribable.  "  Faugh  !  —  Let's  —  get  — 
out ! "  I  gasped,  for  I  was  like  to  choke. 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  skunk  at  both  ends  of  this 
trail,"  said  my  comrade,  grimly,  and  again  I  men- 
tally cursed  the  bird.  He,  however,  was  deter- 
mined to  investigate,  and  he  presently  drew  forth 
the  chicken,  and  no  less  than  three  skunks.  It 
appeared  that  the  stricken  bird  had  fallen  upon  a 
family  party  of  odoriferous  plantigrades ;  that  two 
had  seized  it  and  were  in  the  act  of  dragging  it 


204  The  Grouse  Family 

into  the  den,  while  the  third  was  coming  out  of 
an  adjacent  hole  to  render  what  probably  would 
have  been  powerful  assistance.  The  skins  were 
in  very  fair  condition  and  my  comrade  wanted  them, 
so  I  beat  a  retreat  while  he  stripped  off  the  pelts. 

"  You  keep  down-wind  !  "  I  roared  at  him,  "  or 
I'll  massacre  you  with  your  own  gun." 

He  stuck  to  his  prizes,  which  he  stowed  in  the 
rig,  and  all  the  way  home  and  for  days  afterward 
my  nose  seemed  full  of  that  awful  stench.  Need- 
less to  say,  I  refused  to  accept  the  gun,  which,  to 
his  credit  be  it  said,  he  earnestly  attempted  to 
force  on  me,  for  he  was  a  man  of  his  word,  and 
assuredly  of  strong  convictions  withal. 

And  there  was  more  a-coming,  for  a  few  days 
later  we  were  actors  in  a  truly  powerful  drama  of 
frontier  life.  We  were  shooting  over  the  same 
ground  and  I  fancy  he  purposely  drove  to  the 
same  spot.  Anyway,  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  we 
ran  across  an  ancient  Indian,  what  Kipling  calls 
"  a  silent,  smoky  savage,"  whom  he  knew.  This 
day  we  had  what  was  left  of  a  "  grub-stake  "  for 
two  days,  a  couple  of  cans  of  lobster,  one  of  sar- 
dines, some  crackers,  oatmeal,  and  in  the  lantern 
a  few  drops  of  kerosene.  The  Indian  begged  for 
a  small  pot  in  which  we  had  boiled  porridge  —  he 
had  previously  begged  for  whiskey,  which  he  didn't 
get,  and  for  tobacco,  of  which  a  portion  had  been 
granted. 


The  Prairie  Sharp- tailed  Grouse        205 

In  a  spirit  of  deviltry  my  comrade  offered  to 
prepare  the  doubtful  scion  of  an  erstwhile  alleged 
noble  race  a  square  meal — and  he  did!  While 
we  were  fooling  round  the  pot,  trying  to  slip  in 
the  kerosene,  the  Indian  grunted  and  pointed  at 
something  in  the  grass.  I  snatched  up  a  gun  and 
bowled  over  a  particularly  fine  skunk  which  ap- 
peared to  be  working  up-wind  —  possibly  attracted 
by  the  smell  of  our  viands.  If  that  was  his  clew, 
he  speedily  lost  it,  for  presently  there  came  to  us 
a  brand  of  ozone  such  as  no  mortal  man  could 
tolerate,  for  the  skunk  was  not  quite  dead,  although 
at  a  rough  guess  I  should  have  said  it  had  died 
some  time  previously. 

My  friend  never  turned  a  hair,  but  went  with 
the  Indian  to  get  the  skin,  as  he  started  whisper- 
ing—  "  Fix  the  grub  for  the  chief."  Into  the  pot 
went  everything !  sugar,  tea,  pepper,  salt,  for  we 
needed  them  no  more.  I  was  cutting  the  second 
shell  to  make  sure  that  the  redskin  got  enough 
powder  to  "  blow  himself  "  properly,  when  they 
came  back,  one  carrying  the  skin  and  the  other 
the  carcass  of  the  skunk.  I  promptly  beat  a  re- 
treat, leaving  behind  a  dust-cloud  of  carelessly 
selected  Saxon  speech,  and  presently  my  friend 
followed.  From  a  safe  distance  we  watched  the 
chief  calmly  add  the  fragments  of  the  skunk  to 
his  stew  !  After  a  bit  —  long  before  the  meat 
could  be  half  boiled  —  he  began  to  take  in  cargo, 


206  The  Grouse  Family 

and  we  figured   that   he  could  stow  the  whole 
of  it. 

"  If  we  only  durst  give  him  a  slug  of  fire-water 
—  it  might  get  to  that  powder  and  —  "I  moaned, 
for  my  ribs  were  sore.  Then  we  drove  away. 

Let  us  turn  the  tube  and  see  if  the  dust  of  the 
past  cannot  rearrange  itself  into  some  form  more 
pleasing.  Ah !  the  magic  of  that  kaleidoscope, 
the  memory.  How  the  bright  bits,  the  fragments 
of  the  almost  forgotten,  gleam  and  glow,  and  how 
marvellously  the  occasional  dull  bits  fit  into  the 
design  and  complete  the  beauteous  whole.  And 
how  we  gray-headed  boys  love  to  play  with  this 
toy !  Looking  backward.  Aye  !  there's  the  rub. 
Can  any  but  an  artist-sportsman,  whose  hands 
bear  no  stain  of  needless  slaughter,  look  back  and 
see  these  things  ?  I  trust  so,  for  in  the  clean 
creed  of  our  craft  there  are  no  such  words  as 
"  greed,"  or  "  monopoly." 

We  were  trailing  —  trailing  westward.  A  few 
miles  south  lay  a  new  trail  —  of  steel,  and  it 
curved  away  over  the  open  sun-baked  antelope 
ranges,  past  the  black,  poisoned,  white-rimmed 
waters,  that  were  worse  than  mockery  to  thirsty 
throats ;  across  the  gray-backed  billows  where  the 
sage  proclaimed  the  famished  soil ;  across  this 
continent's  last  battlefield,  where  labor's  sweat- 
ing ranks  charged  home  and  won  league  after 


The  Prairie  Sharp- tailed  Grouse       207 

league  of  glorious  field.  Eastward  ran  that  trail, 
to  the  crowding  ranks  of  poplar,  to  the  moss- 
grown  portages  of  the  fur  traders ;  to  the  rim  of 
the  world's  rock  basin,  foam-draped  by  fresh  water 
seas ;  to  the  black  watch  of  piny  stalwarts,  stead- 
fast, awaiting  doom  by  the  coming  blades ;  to  the 
gleam  of  the  mighty  rivers ;  to  the  jungle  of  masts 
of  the  shipping ;  to  the  white  wrath  of  shoreward 
seas,  —  it  ran  in  unbroken  line,  the  trail  of  the 
king  of  steeds. 

We  had  seen  him  gallop  in  thunderous  might, 
snorting  great  clouds  of  vapor  and  neighing  defi- 
ance and  warning  to  the  wild,  shy  things  of  his 
new  pastures.  We  had  ridden  him  on  his  sun- 
chasing  course,  had  enjoyed  his  smooth,  tireless 
action  for  two  thousand  miles,  and  now  we  were 
trailing,  like  our  brown  brothers  had  trailed 
through  uncounted  years.  Behind,  beginning 
miles  away,  flashed  an  ocean  of  golden  light 
where  the  sun  struck  fair  on  the  bronzy  grass. 
Before  rose  a  rampart  of  white,  ghostly,  impene- 
trable, shrouding  the  beyond  from  too  eager  eyes. 
It  was  exasperating.  For  weeks  I  had  mentally 
pictured  the  first  view  of  the  Rockies,  by  night 
dreaming,  by  day  conjuring  up  rock-piles  of  as- 
tounding altitude,  for  I  had  been  born  on  the 
level,  years  before  in  a  land  where  an  artistic  soul 
had  to  clear  its  long  vistas  with  an  axe,  and 
being  poetic  and  restful  by  nature,  I  —  well,  I 


208  Tbe  Grouse  Family 

hadn't  seen  very  far.  And  here  was  a  fog,  or  a 
snow-storm,  or  something  equally  cold-natured, 
deliberately  interfering.  As  the  Wizard  of  West- 
ern song  has  put  it :  — 

"  We  looked  in  silence  down  across  the  distant 

Unfathomable  reach : 
A  silence  broken  by  the  guide's  consistent 
And  realistic  speech." 

"  By  gum  !  she's  liftin' !  "exclaimed  that  worthy; 
and  —  By  gum  !  she  were  ! 

Like  a  child  at  a  Sunday-school  show,  I  stared 
bubble-eyed  at  the  fog  curtain,  for  it  seemed  to 
shake  in  a  suspicious  manner  —  maybe  it  would 
roll  up  presently  —  then  what?  Slowly,  oh,  so 
slowly  and  majestically,  as  though  Nature  herself 
had  charge  and  knew  better  than  to  spring  the 
surprise  too  suddenly,  that  curtain  rolled  away! 
To  say  that  the  panorama  was  grand  would  sim- 
ply be  idiotic ;  from  grass-fields,  however  broad, 
to  the  full  majesty  of  mighty  mountains  rising  in 
stupendous  disorder  —  peak  upon  peak,  mountain 
on  mountain  piled  —  is  a  leap  beyond  the  powers 
of  that  vaulting-pole  of  all  vaulting-poles  —  the 
pen.  But  there  they  stood,  proud,  serene,  o'er- 
mastering,  robed  in  an  awful  dignity,  as  though 
oblivious  of  their  ghastly  scars,  where  had  fallen 
the  blows  of  ages  of  warring  forces. 

Above  them  all  the  gleaming  helmet  of  their 


The  Prairie  Sharp-tailed  Grouse       209 

iron  chief,  from  which  streamed  down  his  snowy 
locks,  half  veiling  the  flash  of  his  silver  breast- 
plate, where  a  glacier  clung;  and  behind,  blue 
silence,  which  they  alone  could  pierce. 

Somehow,  I  thought  of  the  old  Norse  sagas,  of 
god-like  chiefs  with  shields  and  helms  of  magic 
—  grim  wardens  of  the  honor  of  the  North.  For 
minute  after  minute  I  gazed,  and  then  —  the 
guide  broke  in:  — 

"  Yonder's  chickens  in  the  grass  !  " 

In  an  instant  the  spell  was  broken.  Forgotten 
was  the  chief,  his  body-guard  of  ancients,  and  the 
dream  of  the  useless,  used-to-be,  and  I  asked 
"  Where'bouts  ?  "  It  was  a  shocking  come-down, 
but  then  Nimrod  still  lives,  while  we  only  read 
about  the  other  fellows. 

Sticking  up  among  the  grass  were  stripy-look- 
ing, gopher-like  objects,  which  could  only  be 
chickens'  necks,  and  in  a  minute  there  was  action. 

Whur  !  Tuck-a-tuck  —  Bim  !  Burr  !  Tuck- 
a-tuck  —  Bim  /  Two  fell  beneath  whorls  of  shat- 
tered feathers,  while  a  hand  flew  through  the 
reloading  movements.  Then  a  lot  rose  together 
and  one  barrel  did  the  work,  which  the  second 
failed  to  duplicate. 

"  Load  —  quick !  "  warned  the  guide. 

Then  a  last  one  —  there  always  is  a  last  one  — 
flushed  and  went  tuck-a-tucking  across  from  left 
to  right.  In  a  moment  the  trim  tubes  were  lead- 


210  The  Grouse  Family 

ing  its  outthrust  head,  when,  thanks  to  shooting 
with  both  eyes  open,  I  noticed  something.  The 
flight  of  the  bird  would  carry  it  directly  between 
the  gun  and  the  gleaming  mountain  peak.  To 
kill  it  against  that  marvellous  background  was  the 
whimsical  notion  born  of  the  instant.  On  it 
buzzed  till  the  head  cut  into  the  white,  a  yard 
farther,  and  the  storm  of  lead  overtook  it,  and  for 
a  fraction  of  time  it  hung  with  all  that  mighty 
peak  to  do  it  honor  —  and  so  the  last  chicken 
died. 

And  it  was  the  last  one,  for  all-undreamed-of 
things  were  brewing  which  would  prevent  the 
contemplated  return  to  those  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds.  There  were  blue  quail  and  pheasants 
and  ruffed  grouse  later;  there  have  been  quail 
and  snipe  and  everything  of  the  East  since,  and 
many  of  them ;  yet  older  eyes  are  given  to  sweep- 
ing the  backward  trail,  till  there  glows  a  won- 
drous vision  of  a  snowy,  sun-gilded  peak  and  a 
dark  form  hung  with  spread  wings  in  mid-air, 
as  though  let  down  from  heaven  by  a  viewless 
thread. 

THE   SAGE-GROUSE 

(Centrocercus  urophasianus) 

Adult  male  —  Upper  parts,  buffy  gray,  barred  with  black,  dark  brown 
and  gray,  sometimes  irregularly  blotched  with  black  ;  wings,  like 
back ;  tertials,  bordered  and  streaked  with  white ;  primaries, 
grayish  brown ;  tail,  pointed,  composed  of  twenty  feathers,  the 


Tbe  Sage- Grouse  211 

central  ones  like  the  back,  remainder  black,  barred  with  light 
buff  for  two-thirds  their  length ;  top  of  head  and  neck,  buffy 
gray,  barred  with  black ;  chin,  white  with  black  spots ;  throat, 
and  cheeks,  white ;  a  black  line  from  mouth  under  the  eye  and 
over  ear ;  a  white  line  from  the  eye  down  the  side  of  neck  ;  front 
of  neck,  black,  bordered  with  white;  chest,  gray,  shafts  of 
feathers  black  and  stiff;  flanks,  with  broad  bars  of  buffy  white 
and  sooty  brown;  abdomen  and  rest  of  lower  parts,  black; 
under  tail-coverts,  black,  tipped  with  white ;  bill,  black.  Total 
length,  about  28  inches;  wing,  13;  tail,  13.  Weight,  5  to  8 
pounds.  Loose  yellow  skin  on  sides  of  neck,  which  during 
mating  season  is  inflated  into  large  sacs.  The  female  has  the 
chin  and  throat  pure  white,  otherwise  marked  like  the  male. 
Length,  about  22  inches ;  wing,  io|;  tail,  8|.  So  much  smaller 
is  she  than  her  mate  that  many  sportsmen  have  mistaken  her 
for  an  immature  specimen  and  even  for  a  distinct  race.  The 
downy  young  are  grayish  brown  with  darker  marks  above  and 
lighter  below.  Range,  British  Columbia  and  Assiniboia,  south 
to  New  Mexico,  Utah,  and  Nevada.  East,  to  the  Dakotas, 
Nebraska,  and  Colorado;  west,  to  California,  Oregon,  and 
Washington. 

There  is  something  about  the  sage-grouse  which 
is  slightly  suggestive  of  the  bustard  family,  and 
still  more  suggestive  of  that  king  of  all  grouse, 
the  capercailzie  of  the  forests  over  sea.  It  is  a 
haunter  of  the  sage  plains,  its  principal  food  being 
the  leaves  of  the  sage  bush.  In  these  desolate 
regions,  sun-parched  in  summer,  and  swept  by  icy 
blasts  and  wolf-voiced  blizzards  during  winter,  the 
big  grouse  finds  a  congenial  home,  for  it  is  as 
hardy  as  a  bison.  In  many  respects  peculiar,  it 
affords  a  striking  illustration  of  nature's  marvel- 
lous power  to  meet  conditions  which  at  first  glance 
would  appear  to  be  distinctly  hostile.  As  the 


212  The  Grouse  Family 

sage  is  for  the  bird,  so  the  bird  is  for  the  sage. 
Its  coloration  so  perfectly  harmonizes  with  the 
general  dusty  gray  tone  of  its  surroundings,  that 
when  the  bird,  large  though  it  be,  is  crouched 
among  sparse  herbage,  it  is  difficult  to  make  out 
even  when  but  a  few  yards  away.  When  stand- 
ing erect,  or  moving,  it  is  conspicuous,  as  a  turkey 
would  be  on  a  stubble,  but  the  instant  it  squats  it 
vanishes  as  though  the  alkali  soil  had  swallowed 
it.  In  its  digestive  apparatus,  too,  will  be  found 
evidence  of  nature's  wisdom.  Contrary  to  the 
usual  rule  among  its  kin,  it  lacks  a  true  gizzard, 
but  it  has  a  peculiar  stomach,  which  is  admirably 
fitted  for  its  chief  purpose,  the  digesting  of  sage 
leaves,  insects,  berries,  and  the  seeds  and  foliage 
of  various  plants.  I  have  heard  plainsmen  aver 
that  a  "  feed  of  grain  will  kill  a  sage-hen,"  but  this 
is  erroneous,  for  the  bird  will  not  only  eat  wheat, 
but  apparently  thrive  upon  it,  at  least  for  a  time. 
Whether  it  could  stand  a  continuous  grain  diet 
without  an  occasional  supply  of  its  beloved  sage, 
is,  perhaps,  a  matter  which  has  not  been  thor- 
oughly tested.  In  any  event  the  bird  is  typical 
of  the  wastes  of  sage  which  occupy  no  inconsider- 
able portion  of  the  West  and  Southwest  of  this 
country,  and  of  the  dominion  to  the  north. 

It  is  an  extremely  hardy  bird  and  able  to  get 
along  with  but  little  water,  although  a  free  and 
regular  drinker  when  the  opportunity  is  offered. 


Tbe  Sage- Grouse  213 

Perhaps  no  other  game-bird  has  had  more  non- 
sense told  and  written  about  it.  Even  a  large 
number  of  western  men,  who  should  know  better, 
speak  of  it  with  the  same  contempt  they  apply 
to  that  much  maligned  animal,  the  jack-rabbit. 
Many  are  the  yarns  spun  about  the  eating  of  the 
sage-hen  by  "  tenderfoots,"  and  of  the  subsequent 
disgust  of  the  latter.  As  a  rule  these  accounts 
are  greatly  overdrawn,  most  of  them  being  the 
creations  of  brainy  young  pencil-pushers  of  the 
East,  who  personally  know  nothing  of  the  bird, 
its  food,  or  its  flavor.  I  am  quite  willing  to 
admit  that  the  flesh  of  an  aged  sage-hen  doth 
possess  that  sageness  one  might  expect  with 
advancing  years  —  nay!  I  will  even  go  farther 
and  acknowledge  the  flavor  of  it  to  suggest  a  rare 
blend  of  ancient  duck  dressing,  old  moccasins,  and 
pulverized  Bath  brick ;  but  what  of  it  ?  Carved 
with  a  bowie,  or  a  hatchet,  it  is  capable  of  sustain- 
ing human  life  for  at  least  several  seconds,  and 
seconds  are  sometimes  exceeding  precious. 

In  point  of  fact,  while  the  flesh  of  the  old  bird 
is  rank  and  almost  uneatable,  that  of  a  young  one 
is  by  no  means  bad,  especially  if  the  bird  be  drawn 
immediately  after  death.  So  treated,  it  is  tender 
and  no  poor  substitute  for  pinnated  grouse.  In- 
stances are  readily  recalled  when  it  proved  not 
only  unobjectionable,  but  very  good,  and  this  when 
other  supplies  were  close  at  hand. 


214  The  Grouse  Family 

During  the  period  of  courtship  the  male  sage- 
grouse  fairly  out-Romeos  Romeo,  his  great  size 
only  adding  to  the  absurdity  of  his  antics.  But, 
mercifully,  female  taste  exhibits  that  infinite  variety 
which  gives  every  fellow  a  chance.  The  pairing 
season  begins  early  in  March,  and  the  males  strut 
with  an  earnestness  positively  ludicrous.  Then 
the  big  air-sacs  are  filled  to  their  fullest  capacity, 
the  spiny  feathers  about  them  bristle  out  like 
thorns,  the  long  tail  is  spread  and  the  wings 
trailed.  One  familiar  with  the  noise  of  other 
grouse  naturally  would  expect  from  this  great 
fellow  a  thunderous  booming,  but  the  fact  is  the 
sounds  produced  amounts  to  nothing  more  than 
a  broken,  indistinct  croaking.  However,  foolish 
though  he  looks,  and  poor  though  his  vocal  efforts 
be,  the  females  are  willing  to  endure  the  ills  they 
see  rather  than  fly  to  others  that  they  wot  not  of. 

The  nest  is  a  mere  hollow  under  some  sage 
bush,  and  occasionally  a  trifle  of  light  stuff  and  a 
few  feathers  are  added  by  way  of  lining.  The 
eggs  are  large  and  sage-buff  in  color,  marked  with 
brown.  So  far  as  the  writer  is  aware  no  two  of 
them  are  exactly  alike,  and  there  is  a  considerable 
variation  in  the  ground  color.  A  man  handling 
the  eggs  with  warm,  moist  hands,  may  be  some- 
what astonished  to  find  the  color  coming  off. 
This,  however,  is  not  confined  to  the  eggs  of  this 
species.  The  number  of  eggs  varies  greatly,  the 


The  Sage- Grouse  215 

average  being  about  a  dozen.  The  writer  has 
seen  eight  well  advanced  toward  hatching  in  one 
nest,  and  sixteen  in  another. 

When  the  female  begins  to  sit,  the  male  deserts 
her,  going  off  with  his  fellows  and  taking  no  part 
in  the  care  of  the  young,  which  are  hatched  in 
about  three  weeks.  During  the  period  of  incuba- 
tion the  plumage  of  the  hen  furnishes  a  fine  illus- 
tration of  the  value  of  protective  coloration.  She 
will  rarely  desert  her  eggs  unless  actually  com- 
pelled to,  and  when  she  is  closely  crouching  with 
her  head  low  and  drawn  in,  it  is  well-nigh  impos- 
sible to  make  her  out. 

As  an  illustration  of  this,  I  was  once  chatting 
with  a  cowboy  beside  a  seldom-used  trail,  when  a 
newcomer,  an  English  ranchman,  rode  up.  This 
gentleman  was  a  veteran  of  many  fields  and  quite 
an  accomplished  naturalist,  hence  a  close  observer. 
The  conversation  turned  upon  the  sage-grouse, 
and  the  Briton  expressed  a  desire  to  see  a  nest, 
adding  that  he  had  ridden  out  for  the  purpose  of 
locating  one. 

"  You've  probably  passed  half  a  dozen  on  your 
way  here,"  remarked  the  cowboy ;  "  there's  lots 
of  them  around." 

"  Impossible,  my  friend,  impossible  !  "  said  the 
Briton.  "  I've  kept  a  very  sharp  lookout,  and  I 
assure  you  I'm  no  novice  at  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  dollar  you're  not  fifteen  yards 


216  The  Grouse  Family 

from  a  nest  this  moment,"  said  the  puncher,  with 
a  wink  in  my  direction. 

"  It's  a  wager,"  said  the  Briton.  "  I'd  cheerfully 
give  a  dollar  to  see  the  hen  and  a  full  set  of  eggs." 
Then  he  carefully  scanned  the  ground  all  about. 

The  puncher  stared  at  me  and  rolled  his  eyes 
significantly  downward,  apparently  indicating  a 
spot  within  a  few  yards  of  my  boots.  Thus 
warned,  I  presently  made  out  the  form  of  a 
crouching  hen  not  more  than  fifteen  feet  away. 
Only  when  the  exact  spot  was  pointed  out,  could 
the  Briton  see  her.  Then  he  paid  the  dollar,  and 
said  it  was  "  marvellous  !  "  We  drove  the  bird  off 
the  nest,  and  he  examined  the  eggs,  but,  much  as 
he  desired  them,  he  refused  to  take  them  because 
incubation  was  too  far  advanced  for  his  notion  of 
sportsmanship.  This  so  pleased  the  puncher  that 
he  hunted  up  some  fresh  eggs,  and  delivered  them 
the  following  day. 

As  an  object  of  the  sportsman's  pursuit,  the  sage- 
grouse  is  greatly  inferior  to  most  of  its  relatives. 
The  young,  the  only  ones  worth  shooting,  are 
great  runners,  and  only  take  wing  when  com- 
pelled to,  and  once  in  the  air  their  size  is  against 
them,  although  they  fly  fairly  fast.  Another  ob- 
jectionable feature  is  their  ability  to  carry  off  shot, 
which  sometimes  borders  on  the  marvellous.  A 
light  gun,  deadly  on  other  grouse,  will  hardly 
serve  for  these  big  fellows,  the  use  of  it  surely 


The  Sage- Grouse  217 

meaning  a  lot  of  wounded  birds.  The  coveys 
usually  are  small,  as  the  young  have  many  ene- 
mies, among  which  the  chief  are  fierce  storms, 
wet,  wolves,  foxes,  and  rapacious  birds,  while  man 
plays  no  unimportant  part  in  the  work  of  destruc- 
tion. The  flush  is  straggling,  and  the  flight  noisy, 
labored,  and  unsteady,  until  the  bird  has  gathered 
speed,  when  it  changes  from  a  laborious  beating 
to  a  swifter,  smoother  advance  by  alternate  periods 
of  flapping  and  sailing.  At  the  flush,  and  for 
some  time  after,  the  bird  utters  a  sharp  cackling. 
It  never  trees ;  in  fact,  it  avoids  everything  like 
heavy  cover,  presumably  because  such  shelter 
might  interfere  with  its  rising.  It  roosts  upon  the 
ground,  the  droppings  showing  a  roughly  circular 
and  well-separated  disposition  of  the  members  of 
the  covey.  So  disposed,  with  heads  outward,  the 
birds  are  ready  to  get  under  way,  in  case  of  a 
night  attack,  without  collision  or  interference  from 
neighbors. 

As  winter  tightens  its  grip  upon  the  sage  lands, 
the  birds  of  many  broods  unite  into  packs  of  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  and  odd.  The  flush  of  one 
of  these  large  packs  is  something  to  be  remem- 
bered, for  great  is  the  tumult  of  wings,  and  pierc- 
ing the  cackling,  as  the  heavy  fowl  beat  the  air  in 
frantic  efforts  to  get  squared  away  upon  their 
chosen  course,  At  this  season  the  only  way  to 
get  any  sport  out  of  them  is  by  using  the  rifle. 


2i 8  The  Grouse  Family 

One  day  I  was  watching  an  old  male  which  had 
taken  up  a  position  upon  an  almost  bare  knoll. 
It  was  before  the  open  season,  a  very  idle  period 
on  the  plains;  so,  partly  to  pass  away  time,  and 
partly  in  the  hope  of  discovering  something,  the 
field-glass  was  brought  into  play.  Before  the 
bird  had  been  thoroughly  scrutinized,  some  fal- 
con, which  looked  like  a  male  peregrine,  shot  into 
the  field  of  vision,  and  made  a  vicious  stoop  at  the 
huge  quarry.  Whether  or  no  the  grouse  had  been 
watching  the  hawk  is  impossible  to  say,  but  in  any 
event  he  was  ready.  As  the  hawk  was  almost 
upon  him,  up  went  the  long  tail,  down  went  the 
head,  and  the  wings  were  a  trifle  raised.  Most 
readers,  probably,  have  seen  a  man  hump  his 
back  and  get  his  shoulders  about  his  ears  when 
he  expected  to  be  struck  from  behind  by  a  snow- 
ball. The  action  and  attitude  of  the  grouse  were 
comically  suggestive  of  that  very  thing.  The  hawk 
appeared  to  be  only  fooling,  for  certainly  it  made 
no  determined  strike,  but  presently  rose  and  curved 
away.  An  instant  later  the  grouse  took  wing. 

Hardly  had  it  got  squared  away,  before  the  dis- 
tant hawk  wheeled  and  gave  chase  at  amazing 
speed.  It  was  a  grand  race,  but  the  pursuer  was 
fierce  and  fleet,  and  he  rapidly  overhauled  his 
game.  I  could  hear  the  grouse  cackling  as  though 
in  terror,  and  the  small  size  of  the  foe  was  so  ridicu- 
lous in  comparison  with  the  burly  game,  that  I 


The  Sage- Grouse  219 

laughed  outright.  Presently  the  hawk  stooped, 
but,  just  before  reaching  the  mark,  swerved  like 
lightning  to  one  side,  then  again  made  chase  only 
to  repeat  the  performance.  Finally  the  grouse 
pitched,  and  stood  in  plain  view  as  though  noth- 
ing unusual  had  transpired,  while  the  hawk  drifted 
away,  as  if  satisfied  with  his  fun. 

The  chase  was  very  interesting,  and  while  it 
was  fresh  in  mind  there  arose  a  mental  picture  of 
a  remote  waste  of  sand,  and  overhead  a  blazing 
sun.  In  the  foreground,  a  dainty  antelope  going 
like  a  wind-driven  leaf ;  behind  it  a  hawk,  rushing 
on  hissing  wings,  with  fierce,  telescopic  eyes  flam- 
ing with  the  passion  of  the  chase.  Behind  -the 
hawk  the  matchless  steed  of  the  desert,  laying 
down  to  his  work  and  drumming  the  hot  sand 
with  furious  speed.  And  on  the  steed  a  hawk- 
eyed  rider,  lean  and  brown,  with  thews  of  wire, 
sitting  his  mount  as  though  he  were  part  of  the 
grand  brute,  and  riding  with  the  crafty  skill,  his 
inheritance  from  a  matchless  line  of  swart  ances- 
tors. Through  the  glaring  sunshine  I  seemed  to 
hear  his  voice  ring  like  a  clarion  as  he  cheered 
and  urged  his  wild  helpers  through  the  dashing 
pastime  of  the  wild,  free  desert-born. 

Then  another  picture.  The  grand,  gray  levels 
of  our  broad  land,  and  from  the  ranch  house  a 
merry  party  pricking  forth  with  hawk  on  wrist  to 
renew  again  the  most  picturesque  form  of  sport 


220  The  Grouse  Family 

the  world  has  ever  known.  And  why  not? 
Yonder,  like  boundless  wastes,  lie  the  gray  fields 
fit  only  to  muffle  the  drumming  hoof ;  there  are 
the  grouse,  huge  birds,  unworthy  of  a  skilful  gun, 
but  prime  quarry  for  the  dashing  hawk.  There 
too  are  the  lank,  half-spectral  hares,  fleet  and 
erratic,  should  new  quarry  be  desired,  and  close 
by  are  the  steeds,  swift  and  stout  of  heart,  many 
of  them  full  of  the  hot  blood  of  the  eastern 
plain.  The  hawks  swing  free  about  butte,  and 
bluff,  and  stern-faced  cliff,  —  but  where  the  fal- 
coner? Ay!  the  falconer?  The  wizard  of 
America  arises,  and  in  the  stirring  of  his  robe, 
is  heard  the  rustle  of  countless  greenbacks,  the 
clink  of  metal,  yellow  and  white.  "  /will  produce 
the  falconer  !  Let  but  the  social  leaders  nod  — 
let  one  dozen  of  a  certain  set  say  the  word,  and 
I  not  only  can,  but  I'll  have  to  produce  not  one, 
but  five  hundred  falconers." 

It  would  be  well  worth  the  trying,  for  'tis  indeed 
a  noble  sport.  Perchance,  a  few  years  hence 
may  bring  hawking  fixtures  where  now  there  are 
coursing  fixtures. 


THE   PTARMIGAN  FAMILY 

THE   WILLOW   PTARMIGAN 
(Lagopus  lagopus) 

Adult  male,  in  summer  —  Entire  upper  parts,  including  top  of  head, 
back  of  neck,  scapular,  and  tertials,  barred  with  varying  chest- 
nut and  black,  sometimes  blotched;  primaries,  white,  shafts 
brownish  black ;  secondaries,  white,  shafts  white ;  throat,  sides 
of  neck  and  breast,  chestnut,  barred  with  black,  except  on 
throat;  flanks,  brown,  with  black  bars  and  mottling;  rest  of 
under  parts,  legs,  and  toes,  white;  upper  tail-coverts,  barred 
chestnut  and  black;  tail,  black,  tipped  with  white;  bill,  black. 
Total  length,  about  14  inches  ;  wing  7| ;  tail,  5|. 

Adult  female,  in  summer  —  Entire  upper  parts,  scapulars,  tertials, 
and  a  portion  of  wing-coverts,  black,  barred  with  ochraceous, 
feathers  tipped  with  white ;  throat,  sides,  and  front  of  neck, 
buff,  irregularly  barred  and  spotted  with  black ;  rest  of  under 
parts  and  under  tail-coverts,  buff,  barred  with  black ;  primaries, 
white,  with  dark  shafts;  secondaries,  white;  tail,  sooty  black, 
with  white  tip;  legs  and  toes,  brownish  white;  bill,  black. 
About  the  same  size  as  male.  The  full  winter  plumage  of  both 
sexes  is  pure  white,  with  the  exception  of  the  tail,  which  remains 
black.  The  downy  young  have  the  upper  parts  buff  and  chest- 
nut, striped  with  black;  under  parts,  lighter.  Range,  Arctic 
regions  of  both  hemispheres.  In  America,  south  to  Sitka  and 
Canadian  provinces,  also  Newfoundland. 

An  exceedingly  pretty  bird  in  both  summer 
and  winter  dress,  the  ptarmigan  is  little  known  to 
the  majority  of  American  sportsmen,  for  the  reason 
that  most  of  those  who  penetrate  to  its  nearest 

221 


222  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

haunts  usually  are  after  either  big  game  —  moose, 
caribou,  bear,  or  deer — or  seeking  the  brook  trout, 
salmon,  and  ouananiche  at  a  time  when  the  ptar- 
migan is  not  lawful  game.  Those  who  are  fa- 
miliar with  it  probably  will  agree  with  the  writer's 
opinion  that  as  a  game-bird  it  does  not  rank  very 
high.  But  it  is  a  very  interesting  species,  and 
not  to  be  despised  on  the  board.  Those  who 
only  know  the  white  birds,  frequently  so  conspic- 
uous in  the  markets  of  Quebec  and  Montreal,  are 
not  competent  to  pass  an  opinion  upon  the  merit 
of  the  bird  at  its  best.  The  flesh  of  such  speci- 
mens is  dark,  dry,  and,  if  it  possess  any  pro- 
nounced flavor,  is  apt  to  suggest  its  diet  of  the 
bitter  buds  of  the  willowr.  But  a  young  one,  fed 
on  insects  and  the  foliage  of  certain  plants,  is  an 
entirely  different  proposition,  the  flesh  then  being 
light-colored  and  remarkably  good  eating. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  bird  is  interesting,  and 
with  excellent  reason,  for  the  ptarmigan  furnishes 
a  striking  illustration  of  Nature's  loving  care  of 
her  feebler  folk.  During  summer,  the  barred  and 
mottled  plumage  admirably  blends  with  the  stones, 
lichened  rocks,  and  sparse  herbage  of  the  bird's 
favorite  ranges ;  while  for  winter,  man's  craftiest 
art  could  devise  no  more  efficient  protective 
coloration  than  the  one  which  would  exactly 
match  the  surroundings.  White  upon  white  is 
indeed  a  baffling  dress.  Ask  the  deadliest  of 


Tbe  Willow  Ptarmigan  223 

trap-shots  what  he  would  think  of  being  asked 
to  shoot  at  a  lot  of  snow-white  pigeons  against  a 
background  of  snow.  A  ptarmigan  crouched 
upon  snow,  and  perhaps  surrounded  by  a  dozen 
roundish,  white  irregularities  of  surface,  is  about 
as  easy  to  distinguish  as  would  be  a  green  glass 
button  on  a  lawn.  And  while  most  people  might 
fancy  the  black  tail  would  be  fatally  distinct,  the 
reverse  is  the  actual  fact,  for  this  reason.  Every 
projection  above  clean  snow  is  apt  to  cast  a  more 
or  less  decided  shadow,  and  thus  cause  a  darker 
spot.  This  the  black  tail  of  the  crouching  ptar- 
migan so  closely  imitates  that  the  intelligent 
observer  cannot  fail  to  detect  Nature's  purpose 
in  the  one  peculiar  mark.  When  the  bird  flushes, 
too,  the  black  tail  catches  the  eye  against  the 
white  background,  which  is  apt  to  cause  even  a 
good  shot  to  hold  on  the  most  visible  mark,  and 
thereby  shoot  below,  or  behind  birds,  as  the 
flight  happens  to  be  straightaway  or  crossing. 

Another  of  Nature's  beautiful  provisions,  with- 
out which  the  bird  could  not  exist  in  many  of 
its  present  haunts,  is  what  I  will  term  the  snow- 
shoe  foot.  During  the  short  summer  of  the 
North  the  foot  is  almost  bare,  but  in  winter  it  is 
thickly  covered  with  a  growth  of  hairlike  feath- 
ers, which  not  only  protects  the  toes  from  deadly 
cold,  but  forms  a  veritable  snow-shoe  to  support 
the  plump  body.  A  slim-toed,  barelegged  bird 


224  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

of  equal  weight  could  not  walk  two  steps  in  deep, 
dry  snow,  over  which  this  small  snow-shoer  can 
trot  with  impunity.  Other  notable  wearers  of 
snow-shoes  are  the  Arctic  hare  and  fox,  and  that 
strange  cat,  the  snow-leopard.  The  only  salva- 
tion of  the  hare  is  its  feet,  while  the  fox  and  leop- 
ard have  coats  to  match  the  snow,  and  the  snow- 
shoe  foot  to  enable  them  to  capture  the  prey 
without  which  they  could  not  exist.  The  polar 
bear  and  the  wolf  and  dog  of  the  North  show 
something  of  the  same  provision,  which  is  also 
found  in  the  feet  of  certain  fur-bearers.  A  differ- 
ent, but  equally  useful,  contrivance  is  found  in 
the  spreading  feet  of  those  snow-defiers,  the 
moose,  caribou,  and  musk-ox. 

And  Nature,  as  if  realizing  the  perils  of  the 
ptarmigan  asleep,  has  taught  it  to  plunge  beneath 
the  cold  drifts  to  escape  the  cold,  and  to  fly  at, 
not  walk  to,  the  chosen  drift,  so  that  there  will  be 
no  telltale  trail  for  some  keen  nose  to  follow  to 
the  sleeping-place.  And  this  the  bird  invariably 
does,  going  at  speed  and  butting  its  way  into  the 
snow,  leaving  never  a  print  to  betray  its  retreat, 
from  which  it  flies  forth  in  the  morning.  The 
game  of  life  and  death  is  interestingly  played  up 
North  —  where  the  weak  white  snow-shoers  are 
ever  hiding  from  the  strong  white  snow-shoers 
forever  searching  over  a  field  of  bafBing,  ice- 
bound white.  Brute  noses  are  keen  as  the  icy 


Tbe  Willow  Ptarmigan  225 


air,  and  for  months  the  grave  problem  before 
every  creature  is  how  best  to  fill  its  belly;  but 
unless  the  questing  nose  chances  upon  the  hole 
made  by  the  ptarmigan  on  entering  the  snow, 
and  the  direct  body-scent  of  the  hidden  bird,  it 
may  despairingly  sniff  the  cold  trail  of  many 
snow-shoes,  and  whine  and  turn  away. 

The  love-making  of  the  ptarmigan  is  not  unlike 
that  of  the  Canada  grouse,  or  "  spruce-partridge." 
The  males,  with  their  plumage  changing  from 
white  to  the  handsome  summer  dress,  strut  with 
all  the  pomposity  of  their  kind.  The  red  combs 
over  the  eyes  are  swollen  and  very  conspicuous, 
as  the  bird  struts  with  head  thrown  far  back,  tail 
raised  and  spread,  and  wings  trailing.  Presently 
he  leaps  into  the  air,  raises  himself  higher  and 
higher  with  a  vigorous  flapping,  then  sails  on  set 
wings  through  a  descending  spiral,  which  brings 
him  back  to  his  starting-point.  While  thus 
a-wing,  he  utters  a  curt,  gruff  challenge,  oft  re- 
peated, a  defiance  to  all  rivals.  Again  he  struts, 
and  again  goes  into  the  air,  frequently  to  see 
male  after  male  arise  from  near-by  stations.  While 
so  occupied  the  birds  make  considerable  noise, 
the  bark-like  challenge  and  other  calls  being 
heard  for  some  distance.  Meanwhile,  the  females 
loiter  about  in  the  cover,  admiring  the  efforts  of 
the  males,  and  gradually  acknowledging  their 
charms.  The  inevitable  battles  follow  —  spirited 


226  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

encounters,  in  which  many  hard  knocks  are 
given,  and  much  pretty  plumage  marred,  until  the 
weaker  have  been  well  whipped. 

The  question  of  supremacy  is  settled  about  the 
middle  of  May,  and  the  victors  select  their  mates 
and  proceed  to  the  building  of  the  carelessly  con- 
structed nest,  which  is  a  trifling  hollow  in  the 
ground,  lined  with  a  little  grass  and  a  few  leaves. 
The  eggs  vary  in  shape  and  markings,  the  most 
common  type  being  a  buff  ground  with  irregular, 
darker  freckling  and  mottling.  Very  seldom  are 
two  alike,  and  the  average  number  is  about  nine, 
although  four  or  five  more  are  not  unusual.  They 
are  hatched  in  seventeen  or  eighteen  days.  The 
chicks  are  very  pretty  and  active,  forsaking  the 
nest  shortly  after  leaving  the  shell.  Only  one 
brood  is  raised  in  a  season ;  but  if  the  first  lot  of 
eggs  be  taken,  or  destroyed,  the  female  will  lay 
again. 

The  male  ptarmigan  differs  from  his  kin,  near 
and  remote,  by  being  a  constant  mate  and  de- 
voted father.  While  the  hen  is  sitting,  he  hangs 
about  the  nest,  and  will  almost  give  battle  in  her 
defence.  She,  too,  is  courageous,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  will  submit  to  being  touched,  or  captured, 
rather  than  desert  her  charge.  Both  parents  care 
for  the  young,  and  their  devotion  is  very  pretty, 
as  either  will  take  almost  any  risk  in  their 
anxiety  for  the  chicks.  The  young  are  hardy, 


The  Willow  Ptarmigan  227 

unless  exposed  to  too  much  wet,  which  they  can- 
not stand. 

The  worst  foes  of  the  ptarmigan  are  the  Indians 
and  Esquimaux,  who  rob  the  nests  and  snare 
immense  numbers  of  the  mature  birds  while  they 
are  on  their  partial  migration,  which  merely  is  a 
shifting  from  the  almost  bare  summer  ranges  to 
the  forested  valleys  and  lowlands.  Before  mov- 
ing, the  various  broods  unite  and  form  huge 
packs  which  travel  mainly  on  foot.  The  Indians, 
knowing  this,  erect  brush  hurdles  across  the 
route  and  in  the  brush  set  snares,  which  take 
thousands  of  the  travelling  birds.  Another 
method,  of  which  the  writer  has  heard  the  fur- 
traders  speak,  but  which  he  has  not  seen  em- 
ployed, is  the  luring  of  the  jealous  male  within 
reach  of  a  hand  net,  by  means  of  a  roughly 
stuffed  skin  of  a  male  in  proper  plumage.  Ac- 
cording to  the  tales  told  in  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company's  posts,  the  male  ptarmigan  will 
promptly  attack  the  dummy,  his  hate  of  it  being 
so  o'ermastering  as  to  cause  him  to  forget  all 
about  his  own  safety.  The  number  of  these 
birds  destroyed  each  season  is  enormous,  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  both  Indians  and 
whites  of  the  bleak  North  only  take  them  for 
food,  which  is  far  too  precious  ever  to  be  wasted. 
Until  a  few  years  ago,  comparatively  little  shoot- 
ing was  indulged  in  except  by  a  few  military  men 


228  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

and  the  officers  of  the  fur  company.  But  of  late 
many  settlers  have  invaded  the  once  lonely 
ranges,  and  the  destruction  has,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, been  vastly  increased. 

Scientists  claim  that  the  ptarmigan  is  in  a  con- 
tinuous state  of  moult,  and  the  writer  is  inclined 
to  this  belief,  as  he  cannot  recall  the  handling 
of  a  specimen  which  did  not  somewhere  show 
imperfectly  developed  feathers.  The  late  winter 
birds  naturally  showed  least  trace  of  it,  but  the 
skinning  of  specimen  after  specimen  in  the  win- 
ter dress  betrayed  the  correctness  of  the  scien- 
tific view.  The  process  of  changing  from  the 
white  to  the  summer  plumage  is  a  gradual  one, 
it  being  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  every  phase 
of  it  among  the  birds  of  one  small  area.  Some 
will  show  a  few  darker  feathers  on  the  neck, 
others  look  not  unlike  small-pile  game-fowl, 
while  others  again  are  piebald.  The  autumnal 
change  to  the  white  is  much  more  abrupt.  The 
writer  once  went  to  the  wilds  of  Quebec  in  quest 
of  specimens  for  mounting,  and  the  best  he  could 
get  showed  only  a  trifle  of  white  on  the  lower 
parts.  About  two  weeks  later  he  received  a 
number  of  very  fair  white  birds  from  the  same 
grounds  which  had  failed  to  show  him  a  speci- 
men. That  the  plumage  had  changed  in  that 
time  only  corroborated  the  statements  of  the  resi- 
dents, who  had  promised  plenty  of  white  birds 
within  a  couple  of  weeks. 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan 


A   TRY   FOR   PTARMIGAN 

We  were  in  the  caribou  country.  Far  north, 
wrapped  in  his  white  shroud,  lay  Mistassini, 
sleeping  through  the  long,  white  silence  until 
Wa-Wa  called  him.  Nearer,  to  the  left,  lay  the 
Big  Flat  Water,  drowsing  under  a  pallid  coverlid 
a  fathom  thick.  Over  all  sprang  an  arch  of 
mysterious  gray  that  seemed  to  draw  in  and 
narrow  slowly,  steadily,  silently,  while  we  looked. 
Far  as  we  could  see,  stretching  in  one  soundless 
cordon  until  they  dwindled  in  the  distance  to 
mere  mounds,  stood  what  had  been  sturdy  coni- 
fers. Now  they  were  tents,  drear  domes  of  death 
they  seemed,  pitched  there  by  the  army  of  the 
Arctic  for  a  bitter  bivouac.  We  stood  before  the 
small  cabin  and  looked  eastward.  No  sign  of 
the  sun,  although  he  had  been  up  an  hour.  Some- 
where behind  the  sad  gray  veil  he  was  shining 
with  the  wonderful  brilliancy  of  the  North,  but 
that  day  he  would  cast  no  velvet  shadows  for  us. 

"  Well,  wot  ye  tink  ?  "  inquired  Joe. 

I  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  Something  in  the 
feel  of  the  air,  in  the  pervading  grayness,  coun- 
selled caution  ;  yet  here  was  the  last  day  of  my 
leave,  and  as  yet  the  twelve-gauge  had  not  spoken 
to  the  game  I  particularly  desired,  the  ptarmigan 
in  its  full  winter  plumage. 

Joe  waited  with  all  the  patience  of  the  Indian 


230  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

cross  which  browned  his  skin  and  blackened  his 
long,  straight  hair.  What  he  thought  of  the  pros- 
pect did  not  matter,  nor  would  he  tell ;  his  kind 
never  do  until  it  is  all  over.  All  he  wanted  out 
of  me  was  a  decision  one  way  or  the  other.  If  I 
said  "  Go,"  he  would  lead  away  north  without  a 
word  of  comment ;  if  I  said  "  No,"  he  would  merely 
go  into  the  cabin  and  lie  and  smoke.  Perhaps 
toward  night  he  might  say,  "  We'd  best  gone." 

He  was  a  picturesque-looking  tramp  in  the  gay 
garb  of  the  lumberman.  How  much  he  had  on 
underneath  I  could  only  guess,  but  it  was  quite 
enough  to  spoil  the  outline  of  what  was  naturally 
a  beautiful,  leanly  strong  figure.  On  his  head, 
six  feet  from  his  heels,  was  a  shocking  bad  hat,  a 
black  felt  he  had  picked  up  somewhere.  Bad  as 
it  was,  it  stuck  on  and  shaded  his  eyes.  His  long 
hair  protected  his  ears  and  that  was  sufficient. 
Only  his  small,  narrow  feet  were  Indian.  They 
were  hidden  in  as  pretty  a  pair  of  moccasins  as 
I  had  seen.  But  a  glance  at  his  face  told  the 
story.  Somewhere  not  far  back  in  Joe's  pedigree 
lay  the  cross,  and  in  this  case  the  blending  of  the 
blood  of  the  indomitable  voyageur  with  that  of 
the  redskin  had  produced  a  grand  man,  —  game, 
untiring,  wizard  of  woodland,  a  child  till  the  hot 
blood  was  roused,  an  Indian  when  the  devil  was 
unchained. 

For  a  few  moments   I  hesitated.     If  I  could 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan  231 

only  translate  the  flash  of  the  wonderful  aborigi- 
nal eyes,  or  guess  what  lay  behind  the  mystical 
bronze  mask,  —  but  that  was  impossible.  Once 
more  my  eyes  turned  northward.  The  grayness 
seemed  a  trifle  paler,  and  a  puff  of  air,  keen  as 
if  from  the  very  pole,  met  me.  "  Looks  like 
snow  —  too  cold  to  snow,"  I  muttered,  then  added 
louder :  — 

"  We'll  try  it" 

The  black  eyes  twinkled  an  instant  with  an 
indescribable  flash,  then  he  turned  into  the  cabin. 
As  I  followed  I  heard  him  give  utterance  to  a 
peculiar  low  grunt,  which  might  have  meant  any- 
thing or  nothing.  I  would  have  given  a  deal  to 
have  been  able  to  translate  it,  for  beyond  question 
my  decision  had  raised  or  lowered  his  estimation 
of  my  woodcraft  and  general  qualifications.  I 
acquired  wisdom  later. 

Within  five  minutes  we  were  ready.  Joe  had 
carefully  watched  the  flask,  sandwich,  shells,  and 
tobacco  go  into  my  pockets,  and  again  had 
grunted  softly  when  I  examined  my  match-box. 
Then  without  a  word  he  led  the  way  on  the 
creaking,  netted  shoes  which  alone  rendered  walk- 
ing a  possibility.  He  was  a  mighty  pace-maker. 
Snow-shoeing  is  the  hardest  of  hard  work,  and 
Joe  certainly  showed  me  all  there  was  in  it. 
Before  half  a  mile  had  been  covered  he  had 
me  fumbling  at  the  unruly  button  at  my  throat ; 


232  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

and  by  the  time  a  mile  lay  behind  my  forehead 
was  damp,  in  spite  of  an  air  that  nipped  like  a 
mink-trap.  At  length  we  reached  the  edge  of  a 
tongue  of  fir  woods,  where  Joe  paused.  Before, 
spread  a  mile-broad  open,  where  some  old  fire 
had  bitten  to  the  bone.  In  summer  this  was  an 
artistic  waste  of  lichened  rocks,  with  low,  lean 
scrub  between ;  now  it  spread  like  a  frozen  sea 
with  stiffened  billows  half  buried  in  purest  snow. 
For  minutes  he  stood,  reading  the  sign  as  a  hound 
reads  the  air,  his  eyes  scanning  every  yard  of 
white  from  his  feet  to  the  irregular  sky  line. 

"  Mebbe  car'boo,"  he  muttered,  as  he  rolled  his 
eyes  toward  a  slight  depression  which  I  should 
have  passed  by.  Then  he  stooped  and  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  snow. 

"  Big  bull  —  old,"  was  all  the  comment  he  made 
as  he  straightened  up  and  again  led  the  way. 

Evidently  the  open  had  no  attraction  for  him, 
for  he  swung  off  to  the  right,  keeping  along  the 
edge  of  the  cover.  Here  what  breeze  there  was 
had  full  sweep,  and  it  nipped  keenly  at  the  nose, 
cheeks,  and  chin.  Already  my  heavy  mustache 
was  burdened  with  ice,  and  a  certain  caution  about 
breathing  had  developed.  But  Joe  did  not  appear 
to  bother  about  trifles  like  that,  although  his 
bronzed  face  did  show  a  warmth  of  color.  His 
steady,  remorseless  gait  never  changed,  and  the 
rear  view  of  him  suggested  that  he  was  apt  to  go 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan  233 

on  till  spring.  Nor  was  the  shoeing  easy.  The 
old  snow-shoer  will  understand  what  the  condi- 
tions meant,  and  while  I  was  in  very  fair  form 
and  no  mean  performer  across  country,  I  thor- 
oughly realized  that  there  was  an  iron  man 
ahead.  This,  too,  while  merely  following  a  pace- 
maker —  a  very  different  matter  from  leading. 

It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  later  when  he  halted 
and  blew  a  great  cloud  of  steam  from  his  lips. 
I  understood,  and  at  once  produced  the  flask  and 
poured  him  a  fair  measure  into  the  metal  cup. 
The  good  stuff  fairly  fell  into  him ;  but  an  Ind- 
ian's an  Indian. 

"  You  no  take  ? "  he  queried,  while  a  surprised 
expression  flitted  across  the  chasm  which  had 
entombed  his  share. 

"  Bad  for  eyes  —  snow  bad  enough  now,"  I 
retorted,  as  I  put  away  the  flask,  for  Joe's  eyes 
seemed  to  say  that  if  I  didn't  intend  to  take  any, 
he  might  as  well  have  my  share.  But  that  was 
not  in  order. 

Instead  of  moving  forward,  he  smiled  and 
pointed  at  the  snow.  "  Thur,"  was  all  he  said. 

I  looked  and  saw  one,  two,  three  —  a  dozen 
tiny  trails,  as  though  elfin  snow-shoers  had  passed 
that  way.  They  were  queer  little  tracks,  round- 
ish, indistinct,  running  in  single  lines,  the  rear 
rim  of  one  almost  overlapping  the  fore  rim  of  an- 
other. Never  had  I  beheld  the  like.  By  the 


234  Tbe  Ptarmigan  Family 

size  of  them  their  makers  should  have  been  of 
considerable  weight,  yet  they  barely  dented  the 
snow.  Their  arrangement  was  grouse-like,  and 
in  a  moment  I  had  it.  Nothing  but  the  wonder- 
ful snow-shoe  foot  of  the  ptarmigan  could  leave 
a  trail  like  that. 

"  Snow-grouse  —  white  —  eh  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  nodded. 

"  Fresh  —  where 'bouts  ? "  I  continued. 

"  Look  —  look  lot,"  he  replied. 

A  twinkle  in  his  eye  warned  me  that  I  had 
better  be  mighty  careful,  and  I  felt  certain  he 
had  already  seen  the  birds.  But  where  ?  Stand- 
ing perfectly  still,  I  first  scanned  the  snowy  trees. 
Nothing  there.  Then,  remembering  the  ways  of 
the  quail  and  how  many  times  I  had  detected 
birds  upon  the  ground  ahead  of  the  dogs,  I  be- 
gan a  close  scrutiny  of  the  snow  a  few  yards 
ahead.  Presently  a  shiny  ebon  point  caught  my 
eye,  then  a  dull  point  equally  black,  then  —  as  if 
my  eyes  had  suddenly  become  properly  focussed 
—  I  made  out  the  soft,  white,  pigeonlike  form  of 
a  ptarmigan  crouched  upon  the  snow.  Then  an- 
other and  another  showed,  until  I  could  plainly 
see  seven  birds  in  all.  They  were  about  eight  to 
ten  yards  distant,  and  as  motionless  as  so  many 
snowballs,  which  they  greatly  resembled. 

My  right  hand  rose  slowly  to  my  frosted  chops, 
teeth  seized  the  point  of  the  heavy  mitten,  and 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan  235 

the  bare  hand  slipped  forth  and  closed  upon  the 
grip.  Very  promptly  the  grip  of  the  North 
closed  upon  the  steaming  hand,  which  in  five 
seconds  acknowledged  the  nip  of  the  air  and  the 
apparently  red-hot  touch  of  metal.  Then  I  let 
the  mitten  fall  from  my  mouth. 

Purr-r — whir-r — bur-r  !  The  white  forms 
rose  something  like  quail,  but  lacking  the  hollow 
thunder  and  impetuous  dash  of  the  brave  brown 
bird.  Even  as  the  gun  leaped  to  shoulder  I  real- 
ized that  the  white  ghosts  were  not  going  so  fast, 
but,  true  to  old  quail  training,  the  trigger  finger 
worked  as  though  dense  cover  was  only  two 
yards  instead  of  a  mile  away.  The  first  bird 
stopped  —  shattered  —  within  twenty-five  yards, 
and  the  second  not  more  than  five  yards  beyond 
its  mate.  Joe  grunted  like  a  bull  moose,  then 
dashed  ahead,  and  I  chuckled  as  I  remembered 
that  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  a  "  squaw 
gun  "  in  action.  But,  instead  of  going  direct  to 
the  birds,  he  chased  on  with  long  strides  to  a 
point  sixty  odd  yards  beyond,  and  stooping,  picked 
up  a  third  ptarmigan  which  had  managed  to  get 
into  line  with  the  second.  This  he  triumphantly 
retrieved.  Beautiful  snowy  things  they  were, 
with  the  cold  white  sparks  powdering  their 
spotless  covering,  and  sticking  in  the  hairlike 
texture  of  the  poor  little  snow-shoes.  Two  were 
perfect  for  mounting,  and  even  the  shattered  one 


236  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

might,  with  extra  care,  be  saved.  So  far,  so  good. 
I  had  killed  my  own  specimens  and  added  a  new 
bird  to  the  long  score  of  the  veteran  twelve- 
gauge. 

I  pocketed  the  birds,  broke  the  gun,  put  in 
fresh  shells,  and,  on  the  strength  of  an  easy  but 
clean  kill,  produced  the  flask.  As  Joe  took  his 
dose,  I  noticed  his  face.  Instead  of  the  custom- 
ary grin,  it  showed  grave  and  solemn  as  an  owl's. 
The  sparkle  of  the  eye,  too,  was  missing,  and  when 
the  sight  of  a  drink  didn't  make  Joe's  optics  gleam 
something  surely  was  amiss. 

"You  foller  dem  ? "  he  tersely  queried,  as  I 
made  a  significant  motion.  I  was  somewhat 
astonished. 

"  Bad  luck  —  kill  dem  —  look  dur !  " 

Something  in  his  voice  startled  me,  and  my 
eyes  flashed  northward,  whither  his  long  arm 
pointed. 

Under  great  stress  a  man  sometimes  thinks  of 
whimsical  things.  What  I  thought  was,  "  I've 
killed  three  pups  of  the  North  Pole,  and  here's 

the  whole  d d  Arctic  Circle  coming  south  to 

see  about  it !  " 

Rolling  steadily  down,  like  snowy  surf  moun- 
tains high,  came  a  squall  the  like  of  which  I  had 
never  seen.  One  glance  was  sufficient.  The  white 
mass  seemed  thick  enough  for  good  shoeing,  and 
the  way  in  which  its  deadly  advance  blotted  out 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan  237 

the  landscape  was  absolutely  terrifying.  Under 
such  a  downfall  a  trail  would  not  show  for  a  min- 
ute. 

"  Come  —  quick  !  "  said  Joe,  as  he  turned,  and 
the  gleam  of  his  wild  eyes  was  a  solemn  warning. 

I  have  run  in  a  snow-shoe  steeplechase  over 
rough  country,  have  staggered  home  cooked  to 
a  turn  after  one  of  those  desperate  efforts  which 
fool  men  will  make  for  a  pewter  mug,  a  cheer,  and 
some  woman's  smile.  I  have  been  "butchered 
to  make  a  Roman  holiday  "  on  sliding  seat,  steel 
blades,  spiked  shoon,  and  other  modern  refine- 
ments, while  shrill  voices  rang  and  dainty  thumbs 
turned  down  (they  all  despise  a  loser);  I  have 
been  guilty  of  that  crime  of  blunders,  getting  into 
the  "  gym  "  arena  with  the  wrong  man ;  but  of  all 
the  bucketings  ever  I  got,  Joe  gave  me  the  worst ! 
Peace  be  to  his  ashes  —  he  was  a  scared  Indian, 
and  he  had  no  better  sense. 

Only  those  who  have  chased  a  smoke-tanned 
fire-water  worshipper  on  snow-shoes  about  two 
jumps  ahead  of  a  blizzard  can  understand.  I 
knew  that  he  knew  the  trail,  and  I  vowed  that  if 
he  lost  me  it  was  my  fault.  All  I  could  see  was 
his  dim  back  rising  and  falling  in  mighty  effort  — 
then  we  ran  for  it  in  dead  earnest.  No  picking 
of  path  —  no  anything  but  chase — chase — chase. 
He  never  hesitated  nor  slackened,  and  all  the 
while  the  snow  thickened  and  the  wind  shouted 


238  Tbe  Ptarmigan  Family 

louder  and  louder  at  the  death-song.  At  last, 
with  a  roar  and  a  wild  horizontal  rush  of  snow, 
the  full  strength  of  the  storm  struck  us.  Then 
we  heard  the  true  howl  of  the  "  White  Wolf  of 
the  North  "  as  the  men  in  igloes  hear  it  when  the 
sea  solidifies.  Mercifully  it  was  at  our  backs  — 
any  other  point  would  have  meant  —  but  there's 
cold  comfort  in  that !  I  knew  that  if  Joe  once  got 
out  of  sight  I  might  be  found  frappeed  when  the 
springtime  came;  and  winters  are  long  on  the 
North  Shore.  Besides,  I  had  things  to  attend  to 
later,  my  people  to  see,  and  my  ptarmigan  to 
mount;  so  I  chased  on.  And  ever  before  me 
was  the  snowy  back,  ever  in  my  ears  the  White 
Wolf's  howl,  and  in  my  breast  the  tortured  engine 
pumping  to  bursting  strain.  I  cursed  the  ham- 
pering clothes  and  the  buttons  that  seemed  ever 
drawing  tighter,  the  thongs  that  cut  deep  now, 
and  the  nets  that  had  to  be  swung  true  while 
they  felt  like  lead  to  the  feet. 

At  last  came  the  blessed  "second  wind,"  and 
none  too  soon,  for  it  found  me  rocking.  The 
snow-padded  back  was  ten  yards  ahead  now,  ris- 
ing and  falling  with  the  same  old  motion.  Ever 
and  anon  a  savage  swirl  would  hide  it  in  a  blur 
of  white,  but  I  was  going  easier  and  felt  I  could 
close  the  gap  at  will.  Presently  it  vanished,  and 
on  the  instant  of  its  disappearance  I  realized  my 
danger  and  spurted  vigorously.  Before  I  had 


A  Try  for  Ptarmigan  239 

time  to  think  Joe  was  again  in  view,  and  I  men- 
tally vowed  that  not  for  my  life  would  I  let  him 
out  of  my  sight.  Indian-like,  he  had  no  idea  of 
halting  or  looking  round  to  see  how  I  fared.  I 
was  to  follow  —  if  I  failed  to  do  so,  that  was  my 
affair.  When  an  Indian  gets  scared  he's  the 
worst  scared  thing  imaginable ;  and  Joe  was  going 
to  the  cabin  by  the  shortest  route.  If  I  failed  to 
make  it,  he'd  hunt  for  me — after  the  weather 
cleared. 

Through  the  roar  and  the  whine  and  the  fog  of 
it  all  we  pounded  ahead.  First  a  faint,  uneasy 
dread  took  hold  of  me.  Did  Joe  know  whither 
he  was  drifting?  Had  his  instinct  for  once 
failed  ?  We  seemed  to  have  covered  an  awfully 
long  route.  Then  another  and  worse  fear  came. 
I  was  getting  tired.  No  mistake  about  that.  No 
one  knew  better  than  I  what  the  muscles  of  each 
leg  were  complaining  of.  No  temporary  loss  of 
wind  this  time,  but  genuine  exhaustion.  One 
quarter  of  a  mile  more,  if  we  had  to  go  so  far, 
and  I'd  be  done  so  brown  that  a  bake-oven 
couldn't  tan  me  more. 

What  then  ?  I'd  follow  the  trail  far  as  I  could, 
then  curl  up.  I  had  the  flask  and  the  infernal 

ptarmigan — d n  the  ptarmigan  !  And  I'd  live 

on  them  for  two  days,  anyway.  But  the  cold  — 
oh !  yes,  the  cold —  well,  it  would  freeze  me  stiffer 
than  the  North  Pole  in  twenty  minutes,  and  then 


240  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

—  the  White  Wolf  of  the  North  would  come  and 
nuzzle  for  ears,  nose,  and  every  projecting  mouth- 
ful, and  they'd  snap  like  icicles,  and  he'd  get  them 
and  thaw  them  in  his  steamy  paunch.  But  the 
rest  —  the  big,  rounded  parts  would  fool  him,  for 
his  teeth  would  slip  on  the  flint-hard  meat,  and  it 

would  serve  him  d n  well  right !  He  could  just 

wait  for  a  thaw,  and  then  —  a  rasp  of  a  twig  across 
my  cold  nose  startled  and  hurt  me,  so  that  I  no- 
ticed I  was  running  into  cover.  The  edge  of  the 
woods !  Yes,  and  there  was  Joe's  track  and  Joe 
himself  just  ahead. 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  at  the  cabin.  Fifteen 
minutes  later  we  had  got  rid  of  snowy  outer  garb, 
and  had  looked  upon  something  that  was  red  and 
oh !  so  welcome.  Presently  Joe  raised  his  drawn 
face  from  his  hands  and  said :  — 

"Bad  to  kill  dem  white  snow-bird.  But  you 
good  — run  like  bull  moose  —  else  los !  " 

I  muttered  something,  I'd  hate  to  say  what,  for 
my  eyes  were  closing  in  utter  weariness. 


ALLEN'S  PTARMIGAN 


(L.  I.  alleni) 


A  very  common  bird  in  Newfoundland,  and  in 
the  belief  of  the  writer  and  many  others,  it  simply 
is  the  species  described  as  willow-ptarmigan, 
Lagopus  lagopus. 


Rembardt's  Ptarmigan  241 

THE   ROCK  PTARMIGAN 
(L.  rupestris) 

This  bird  is  somewhat  smaller  than  the  willow- 
ptarmigan,  and  has  one  distinguishing  mark,  i.e. 
a  black  line  extending  from  the  bill  to  the  eye. 
The  summer  plumage  shows  a  grayer  tone  than 
that  of  the  willow  species,  and  there  are  conspicu- 
ous black  blotches  on  the  upper  part  of  the  back. 
In  winter  the  sexes  are  white,  with  the  exception 
of  the  black  tail  and  the  stripe  from  bill  to  eye. 
Its  range  embraces  Arctic  America,  Alaska  to 
Labrador,  south  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence, 
Greenland.  During  summer  it  frequents  the  hills, 
mountains,  and  the  barren  grounds.  At  the  ap- 
proach of  winter  it  descends  to  the  valleys  for 
shelter.  The  courtship,  nest,  eggs,  and  young 
resemble  those  of  the  willow-ptarmigan.  The 
sporting  and  edible  qualities  are  about  the  same. 

REINHARDT'S  PTARMIGAN 

(L.  r.  reinhardti} 

The  male  of  this  race  has  little  to  distinguish 
him  from  the  male  of  Z.  rupestris,  but  the  plu- 
mage of  the  female  presents  a  distinctly  black-and- 
white  effect.  The  habits,  nesting,  eggs,  and 
young  show  no  marked  variation  from  the  pre- 
ceding race.  The  range  includes  Northern  Lab- 
rador, the  islands  on  the  west  of  Cumberland  Gulf, 


242  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

and  Greenland.  One  brood  is  raised  in  a  season, 
the  members  of  which  keep  together  until  the 
following  mating  season. 

WELCH'S  PTARMIGAN 

(Z.  r.  welchi} 

A  Newfoundland  race,  and  apparently  confined  to  the  mountains  of 
that  island. 

Adult  male,  in  summer  —  Entire  upper  parts,  brownish  gray,  vermic- 
ulated  and  spotted  with  black,  some  feathers  tipped,  others 
barred  with  white ;  front,  chin,  upper  part  of  throat,  cheeks,  and 
back  of  neck,  barred  black  and  white ;  tail,  blackish  brown ; 
upper  part  of  breast,  barred  black  and  white;  lower  breast, 
belly  and  under  tail-coverts,  thighs,  and  tarsi,  white ;  bill,  horn 
color.  Total  length,  14  inches;  wing,  y£;  tail,  4! ;  tarsus,  i£. 

Adult  female  —  Top  of  head,  barred  with  black  and  buff;  back  and 
sides  of  head  and  neck,  pale  buff,  barred  and  spotted  with  black ; 
entire  upper  parts,  mixed  buff  and  black  ;  primaries  and  second- 
aries, white ;  tail,  dark  brown,  the  feathers  edged,  and  the  four 
median  feathers  barred  and  tipped  with  white ;  throat,  whitish 
buff;  breast  and  flanks,  pale  buff,  with  broad,  irregular  bars  of 
black ;  lower  breast,  abdomen,  under  tail,  tail-coverts,  legs,  and 
feet,  buffy  white;  bill,  pale  horn  color.  Total  length,  about  12 \ 
inches ;  wing,  6| ;  tail,  about  4^.  The  autumn  plumage  is 
grayer,  that  of  winter,  white. 

THE   WHITE-TAILED    PTARMIGAN 
(L.  leucurus) 

Adult  male  —  Top  of  head,  sooty  black,  feathers  tipped  with  buff; 
lores,  black;  rest  of  head  and  neck,  barred  black  and  buff;  tips 
of  feathers,  whitish ;  chin  and  throat,  white,  with  black  spots ; 
upper  parts,  grayish  buff,  barred  and  vermiculated  with  black ; 
breast  and  flanks,  barred  and  vermiculated  with  black  and 
brown;  lower  breast  and  belly,  legs,  and  tail,  white.  Total 
length,  I2|  inches;  wing,  6\.  Female,  in  size  and  color  like 
the  male. 


Tbe  White-tailed  Ptarmigan          243 

Those  who,  like  the  writer,  have  shot  on  the 
mountains  of  British  Columbia  and  in  the  west- 
ern states,  will  probably  recognize  this  handsome 
species,  the  only  one  of  its  family  which  sports  a 
white  tail.  Even  careless  eyes  could  hardly  fail 
to  notice  the  distinguishing  mark,  for  be  the  bird 
trotting  ahead,  or  whirring  away,  the  snow-white 
badge  is  like  the  helmet  of  Navarre.  Unlike 
many  of  its  kin,  this  bird  is  not  troubled  with 
overconfidence  in  man,  but  is  apt  to  fly  smartly 
and  present  none  too  easy  a  mark.  It  is  also 
quite  a  runner,  and  taken  altogether,  the  "  snow- 
quail,"  as  the  miners  call  it,  is  a  fit  quarry  for  an 
expert,  especially  if  he  be  a  "  tenderfoot,"  unused 
to  Alpine  work  and  the  pure,  thin  air  of  the 
heights ;  for  this  ptarmigan  is  a  lover  of  high  alti- 
tudes, seldom,  if  ever,  being  seen  lower  than  five 
or  six  thousand  feet.  In  Colorado  and  British 
Columbia  I  found  it  quite  plentiful,  and  have  a 
distinct  recollection  that  every  bird  I  bagged  was 
fairly  earned.  Men  whose  experience  has  been 
confined  to  the  East  have  no  idea  how  one's  heart 
will  thump  and  the  hands  shake  during  the  first 
weeks  of  actual  mountaineering.  Frequently,  far 
too  frequently,  there  is  genuine  climbing  to  be 
done,  and  no  tenderfoot  can  do  much  of  it  and 
remain  at  all  steady.  In  fact,  nine  out  of  every 
ten  men  are  startled,  if  not  positively  scared,  by 
the  effect  upon  them  of  an  hour's  stiffish  work. 


244  Tbe  Ptarmigan  Family 

Half  of  the  novices  will  sit  down  and  gasp  in  a 
state  bordering  on  blue  funk,  for  one's  heart  acts 
as  though  it  would  beat  its  way  through  the  con- 
fining ribs,  and  the  air  seems  to  have  nothing  good, 
and  not  much  of  anything  else  in  it.  All  of  this 
is  both  trying  and  dread-inspiring  to  the  hapless 
tenderfoot,  who  vaguely  wonders  what  on  earth's 
gone  wrong  with  him,  and  if  he's  not  going  to  die 
where  he  is.  A  reasonable  amount  of  prepara- 
tory exercise  at  moderate  heights  will  remedy  the 
trouble.  Yet  any  man  from  the  lowlands  will  do 
well  to  exercise  caution  in  tackling  the  mountains, 
for  it  is  quite  possible  that  any,  perhaps  some  un- 
suspected, trouble  of  the  heart  might  cause  serious 
complications.  I  cherish  a  vivid  memory  of  my 
first  snow-quail,  which  ran,  and  was  pursued  for 
some  distance  before  it  would  take  wing.  It  was 
killed,  more  by  instinct  than  reason-directed  effort, 
for  the  man  rocked  as  he  stood,  and  the  big  peaks 
about  seemed  to  rock  too.  Only  a  long  rest  and 
vigorous  self-rallying  finally  drove  away  the  feel- 
ing of  awful  apprehension  that  something  was 
amiss  in  the  department  of  the  interior,  for  the 
way  that  heart  hammered  and  those  temples 
throbbed  was  absolutely  soul-scaring.  After  a 
week  or  so  the  same  man  could  climb  with  the 
best  of  them ;  but  he  will  never  forget  that  first 
return  to  camp,  when,  on  rickety  legs,  he  tottered 
down  the  last  slope,  and  heard  the  laughter  of  sea- 


The  White-tailed  Ptarmigan          245 

soned  comrades  who  had  "  been  there,"  and  were 
wickedly  waiting  to  see  the  effect  upon  the  aspir- 
ant from  the  East.  It  was  days  before  legs  which 
could  kill  any  dismounted  horseman  of  the  plains 
were  any  real  use,  and  some  time  longer  before 
the  schooling  tenderfoot  could  convince  himself 
that  there  was  not  something  rotten  in  Den- 
mark. 

But,  like  the  others  before  him,  he  in  due  time 
hardened  to  the  novel  work  and  conditions,  and 
then  he  took  his  full  toll  of  snow-quail  and  hugely 
enjoyed  the  labor.  And  small  wonder,  for  that 
particular  shooting  ground  lay  high  up  among  the 
marvel-peaks  where  Titans  had  builded  their  state- 
liest piles,  to  last  the  crawling  ages  through  and 
prove  to  antlike  earthlings  the  power  of  the  Hand 
which  guided  the  glacier-plough  and  turned  those 
gold-seeded  furrows,  to  which  men  now  cling  and 
peck  like  birds  of  the  air. 

The  summer  plumage  of  this  ptarmigan  so 
closely  matches  the  mossy  stones  which  cover 
its  range  that  even  practised  eyes  frequently  fail 
to  discover  a  bird  until  it  moves.  In  winter,  or 
upon  the  everlasting  snow,  the  white  simply  melts 
into  the  other  white,  and  the  searcher  may  pass 
within  a  few  feet  and  fail  to  locate  his  game. 
During  the  mating  the  males  strut  and  fight  like 
all  their  family.  The  nest  is  some  convenient, 
trifling  hollow,  lined  with  a  few  fragments  of  foli- 


246  The  Ptarmigan  Family 

age  and  feathers,  and  it  invariably  is  far  up  the 
mountain.  The  average  number  of  eggs  is  about 
nine.  They  are  buff,  spotted  and  blotched  with 
dull  brown.  The  chicks  are  white  and  slaty  brown 
arranged  in  stripes.  The  mother  will  give  battle 
valiantly  in  their  defence,  acting  not  unlike  an 
angry  domestic  fowl.  But  one  brood  is  raised  in 
a  season.  The  food  is  insects  and  foliage,  and 
the  flesh  is  light-colored  and,  when  young,  excel- 
lent. The  winter  food  is  buds  and  foliage  of  the 
native  evergreens.  The  full  summer  plumage  is 
rarely  seen  before  the  first  of  July,  and  by  October 
it  is  changing  to  the  white.  About  February,  or 
early  in  March,  the  spotless  dress  is  at  its  best 
At  the  approach  of  winter  the  broods  of  a  district 
frequently  join  forces  in  a  packlike  formation. 
I  have  seen  forty  or  fifty  together,  and  heard  the 
miners  speak  of  packs  of  several  hundreds ;  this, 
however,  is  hearsay,  and  perhaps  one  hundred 
birds  together  would  be  a  large  pack.  During 
rough  weather  the  birds  will  go  under  the  snow ; 
in  fact,  they  will  hide  in  snow  whenever  it  is 
available.  While  certainly  no  quarry  for  a  "  one- 
lung,"  or  a  boudoir  sportsman,  this  attractive  bird 
is  well  worth  the  attention  of  any  sturdy  Nimrod 
who  may  find  himself  among  the  mountains  with 
sufficient  spare  time  to  work  himself  into  proper 
condition.  The  range  of  the  white-tailed  ptarmi- 
gan includes  the  high  mountains  from  the  Liard 


Other  Ptarmigan  247 

River,   Canada,    and   western    United    States   to 
New  Mexico. 

OTHER   PTARMIGAN 

Of  the  remaining  races  of  ptarmigan,  which 
include  Nelson's  L.  r.  nelsoni,  Turner's  L.  r. 
atkensis,  Townsend's  L.  r.  townsendi,  and  Ever- 
mann's  L.  evermanni,  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak  at 
length.  They  are  residents  of  the  Aleutian  Islands 
and  are  confined  to  that  chain,  whither  sportsmen 
are  unlikely  to  follow  them  for  a  long  time  to 
come.  So  far  as  is  at  present  known  their  habits 
are  the  same  as  those  of  their  better-known  kin, 
and  all  of  them  turn  white  in  winter. 

It  is  within  the  possibilities,  perhaps  among  the 
probabilities,  that  some  enterprising  American 
may  discover  good  cause  for  the  exploitation  of 
those  islands  of  the  North  Pacific  which  to-day 
stand  like  the  broken  piers  of  some  mighty  bridge 
which  once  connected  us  with  the  older  world. 
When  that  time  arrives  no  doubt  the  ptarmigan 
will  be  there,  for  they  are  very  numerous  to-day. 
Then  they  doubtless  will  pass  through  that  ques- 
tionable routine  which  includes  the  pot-hunter, 
the  cold  storage,  the  chef,  and  the  too  frequently 
outraged  digestive  apparatus  of  our  Uncle  Sam- 
uel. Until  then,  and  may  the  day  be  long  a-com- 
ing,  it  is  in  order  to  bid  adieu  to  this  interesting 
and  beautiful  family  and  to  turn  to  other  game. 


THE   TURKEY   FAMILY 

THE    WILD   TURKEY 

(Meleagris  sylvestris) 

Adult  male  —  Plumage  of  body  glittering  with  a  metallic  lustre, 
showing  bronzy  gold,  green,  and  red,  in  changing  lights,  each 
feather  banded  at  tip  with  velvety  black ;  secondaries,  bronzy 
green,  barred  with  grayish,  or  buffy  white ;  primaries,  black, 
conspicuously  barred  with  white ;  rump,  blackish,  with  purplish 
gloss ;  upper  tail-coverts,  rich  chestnut,  shot  with  metallic  red 
and  barred  with  black ;  tail,  chestnut,  barred  and  vermiculated 
with  black,  a  broad  black  band  near  tip,  all  the  feathers  tipped 
with  rich  buff;  head  and  neck,  red,  almost  naked,  there  being 
some  scattering  black  bristles;  from  the  centre  of  the  breast 
hangs  a  tuft  of  long,  stiff  black  bristles  of  varying  lengths ; 
legs,  red ;  spurs,  dark  horn ;  bill,  reddish  horn.  Total  length, 
about  four  feet;  wing,  21  inches;  tail,  19;  weight,  varying 
from  about  fifteen  to  about  forty  pounds.  The  female  usually 
is  much  smaller  and  lacks  the  bristles  on  the  breast;  the  plu- 
mage is  subdued  in  tone  with  but  little  metallic  sheen.  Range, 
from  Pennsylvania  to  the  Gulf  States,  except  Florida;  west- 
ward, to  Wisconsin,  south  to  Texas.  Haunts,  forested  districts- 
The  downy  young  are  pretty,  delicate  little  things,  yellowish 
buff  with  darker  markings  on  the  upper  parts  —  exactly  like  the 
young  of  the  domestic  bronze  turkey. 

The  complete  history  of  this  truly  noble  bird 
would  fill  a  book  much  larger  than  this  volume. 
Formerly  abundant  throughout  its  range,  the 
great  flocks  have  dwindled  to  a  beggarly  remnant 
which  can  only  be  saved  from  final  destruction 

248 


The  Wild  Turkey  249 

by  vigorous  protective  measures.  That  such  a 
bird,  in  the  opinion  of  many  the  finest  game-bird 
in  the  world,  has  been  almost  exterminated  in 
miles  of  forested  country  where  it  might  have 
been  preserved,  is  a  blot  upon  the  sportsmanship 
of  our  older  states.  And  the  same  holds  true  of 
the  one  province  of  Canada  where  the  turkey 
once  abounded.  Thirty  years  ago  one  could 
drive  in  almost  any  direction  through  the  woods 
of  western  Ontario  and  reasonably  expect  to  see 
either  the  birds  themselves  or  their  tracks  cross- 
ing the  snowy  roads.  Twenty  years  ago  the  range 
had  narrowed  to  the  big  woods  of  the  western 
tongue  of  Ontario.  Ten  years  ago  the  last  strong- 
hold had  dwindled  to  the  wildest  parts  of  about 
three  counties.  To-day  there  is  perhaps  a  single 
narrow  strip  where  one  might  strike  a  trail  and 
possibly  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  fleeing  survivor  of 
the  old-time  hosts.  And  the  same  sad  tale  might 
truly  be  told  of  the  best  grounds  of  Pennsylvania, 
Michigan,  and  Wisconsin ;  there  are  birds  in  cer- 
tain parts  of  all  three  states,  but  they  are  deplor- 
ably few.  I  know  that  some  distinguished  writers 
have  mourned  the  loss  of  the  turkey  in  parts  of 
Pennsylvania,  but  I  also  know  that  the  grief,  while 
doubtless  sincere,  is  a  bit  premature,  for,  to  my 
personal  knowledge,  there  still  are  a  few  turkeys 
in  parts  of  Pennsylvania  where  their  existence  is 
unsuspected  except  by  local  sportsmen. 


250  The  Turkey  Family 

Those  who  know  the  wild  gobbler  in  his  pride 
will  possibly  agree  with  me  in  the  belief  that 
when  the  bald  eagle  was  selected  to  pose  as  an 
emblem  of  this  country,  a  serious  error  was  made. 
It  is  true  that  the  eagle  can  scream,  while  the 
turkey  can  only  gobble ;  but  quiet,  persistent  gob- 
bling, especially  of  markets,  carrying  trade,  and 
carelessly  located  adjacent  isles,  is  not  such  a 
profitless  business. 

With  all  due  respect  to  the  bald-headed  old 
scavenger  whose  portrait  is  so  familiar  to  experts 
in  the  line  of  negotiable  currency,  he  is  by  no 
means  emblematic  of  the  true  American  spirit. 
He  soars  —  good!  He  dares  the  upper  blue; 
with  storm-defying  pinion  and  sun-gazing,  glitter- 
ing optic  he  swings  wide  and  free ;  afar  in  cold, 
thin  air  he  cuts  his  mighty  swath  in  the  full 
glare,  and  before  the  upturned  orbs  of  the  nations 
at  gaze.  His  voice  comes  down  like  a  clarion 
blast  from  heaven  itself;  then  he  comes  down 
—  down  to  the  level  of  the  steaming  beaches 
where  the  stinking  fish  form  windrows ;  to  the 
sodden  fields,  where  sleeps  the  ancient  kine  on 
the  site  of  the  exhausted  straw-stack ;  and  of  that 
frappeed  beef,  with  its  breath  like  a  pent-up  pesti- 
lence and  its  udder  like  a  poisoned  ice-cream 
freezer,  the  emblem  maketh  his  royal  meal.  In 
other  words  he  soars,  but  he  eats  dirt,  which  is 
distinctly  un-American.  Furthermore,  he  watches 


The  Wild  Turkey 


251 


that  toiler  of  the  sea,  the  sturdy  fish-hawk,  and 
robs  him  of  his  hard-won  catch !  Surely,  any  one 
familiar  with  the  policy  of  America  knows  per- 
fectly well  that  Uncle  Sam  never  even  glances 
northward,  or  for  a  single  instant  suffers  his 
mighty  thought  to  dwell  upon  those  toiling  fish- 
hawks  a  bit  to  the  nor'ard  of,  say  —  Maine? 
Perish  the  thought  that  we,  the  eagles,  ever 
could  stoop  to  any  fish-hawk's  fish  !  Hence,  the 
bluffing,  but  really  cowardly,  eagle,  the  stealer  of 
fish  from  weaker  neighbors,  is  an  emblem  unap- 
propriate,  very  ! 

How  much  better  it  would  have  been  had  the 
emblem  choosers  selected  the  turkey.  He  struts 
and  gobbles  a  bit  —  most  of  us  do;  but  he 
really  is  a  grand  fellow,  handsome,  wise,  and  (espe- 
cially about  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  times) 
so  far  superior  to  the  finest  eagle  that  ever  soared 
or  screamed,  that  even  the  hottest  of  patriots 
would  prefer  him. 

In  that,  alas !  now  far-away,  time  when  the 
sporting  blood  first  began  to  assert  itself,  there 
were  hosts  of  turkeys  within  a  few  miles  of  my 
old  Ontario  home.  Farmers  coming  in  with 
bob-sleighs  laden  with  wrood,  grain,  meat,  and 
other  products,  usually  had  a  turkey  or  two  for 
sale.  Then  a  royal  gobbler,  killed  with  a  single 
ball,  was  the  thing  for  the  Christmas  dinner  and 
the  New  Year  sideboard.  Indians  from  the  big 


252  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

woods  of  Kent  and  Essex  counties — in  fact 
hunters,  black,  white,  and  tan,  from  almost  every 
township  of  the  western  counties  —  used  to  come 
in  after  the  first  tracking  snow,  with  turkeys  the 
like  of  which  would  be  difficult  to  find  to-day. 
But,  even  then,  a  five-dollar  bill  was  readily  ob- 
tainable for  a  prime  gobbler,  for  such  a  bird  was 
a  worthy  offering  to  some  revered  chief  justice, 
or  other  good  old  chap  who  was  given  to  warm- 
ing his  buttocks  in  the  seats  of  the  mighty. 

The  demand  for  the  great  birds  worked  harm 
there,  as  it  has  done  in  all  their  old  ranges.  A 
turkey  is  easily  trapped,  and  log  traps  must 
have  been  plentiful  in  the  lonely  woods.  And 
there  was  other  mischief,  for  the  farmers  were 
long-headed  and  persistent  trailers  of  a  dollar,  so 
when  they  found  a  turkey's  nest,  which  they  fre- 
quently did,  they  looted  it  and  placed  the  eggs 
either  under  a  domestic  turkey  or  a  barnyard 
fowl.  It  is  true  that  the  wild  turkey-hen,  if 
robbed  of  her  eggs,  will  lay  again ;  but  the  man 
who  did  the  robbing  knew  this,  and  he  also  laid 
again  —  that  is,  laid  low  for  the  second  lot.  The 
countrywomen  knew  the  value  of  the  direct  wild 
cross,  so  they  used  to  suffer  their  tame  hens  to 
range  the  woods  and  meet  the  wild  gobblers. 
The  half-wild  broods  were  allowed  to  remain  in 
the  woods  until,  from  feeding  on  mast,  they  had 
acquired  the  proper  flavor.  Then  they  were 


THE   KING   OF  WILD    BIRDS 


The  WM  Turkey  253 

rounded  up  and  every  one  that  possibly  could 
pass  for  a  wild  bird  was  sold  as  such. 

I  well  remember,  as  a  youth,  being  asked  to 
take  some  farmer's  rifle  and  shoot  the  half-wild 
turkeys,  the  alleged  reason  being  that  the  birds 
could  not  be  caught.  This,  of  course,  was  non- 
sense —  the  farmer's  real  object  being  to  have  a 
bird  that  showed  the  mark  of  the  bullet  as  proof 
of  genuine  wild  blood.  Another  trick  was  to 
feed  a  big,  red-legged  gobbler  until  he  would 
scale  about  twenty-five  pounds,  then  shoot  him 
with  a  rifle  in  the  presence  of  some  reliable  party 
who  would  swear,  if  need  be,  that  he  saw  the  bird 
shot.  Still  another,  and  a  deadly  way,  was  to  hire 
some  buck  Indian  to  do  the  shooting  and  the 
selling.  The  Buck  would  shoot  the  birds,  fix  a 
strip  of  bark  to  their  necks,  and  take  in  two  or 
three  at  a  time  to  market.  Such  birds,  showing- 
bullet  marks,  having  the  bark,  and,  above  all, 
offered  by  a  solemn  savage  who  couldn't  speak 
ten  words  of  English  when  he  was  paid  not  to, 
found  eager  purchasers  at  fancy  prices.  This 
method,  however,  as  may  readily  be  imagined,  was 
not  very  hard  upon  the  wild  stock. 

The  fatal  weakness  of  the  wild  turkey  was  the 
ease  with  which  it  could  be  trapped  —  a  weak- 
ness, by  the  way,  which  is  common  to  all  galli- 
naceous birds.  The  old  pen  traps,  made  of  logs, 
and  not  unlike  rough  log  shanties,  used  to  take 


254  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

sometimes  whole  flocks.  These  traps  were  built 
usually  on  a  slope,  but  sometimes  on  the  level, 
and  were  entered  by  a  trench,  cut  so  as  to  dip 
under  the  bottom  log.  The  house  or  pen  had 
big  cracks  near  the  roof,  and  in  the  roof  itself, 
through  which  light  could  freely  stream  in.  The 
lower  walls  and  the  curved  trench  admitted  no 
direct  light,  so  the  birds,  once  inside  the  pen, 
could  see  no  friendly  guiding  light  to  indicate 
the  way  out.  Leading  through  the  woods,  to  and 
through  the  trench,  was  a  trail  of  grain. 

When  a  flock  of  turkeys  found  the  grain  they 
eventually  followed  it  to  the  pen.  If  some  fed  in 
the  wrong  direction,  they  presently  reached  the 
end,  where  they  turned  and  searched  in  the  other 
direction.  Once  in  the  trench  and  greedily  feed- 
ing, there  was  no  occasion  for  them  to  raise  their 
heads,  and  if  they  did,  it  was  no  great  matter.  The 
trail  of  grain  merely  led  under  an  old  log  and 
they  had  picked  under  many  a  similar  log.  So, 
feeding,  they  passed  beneath  the  treacherous  log, 
which  well  might  have  borne  the  legend,  "  All 
hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here."  Inside,  a 
trail  of  grain  led  to  that  part  of  the  pen  from 
which  the  fowl  were  least  likely  to  notice  the 
trench,  and  here  there  was  more  food.  When 
the  gorged  turkeys  finally  raised  their  heads  in 
earnest  and  looked  for  the  way  out,  they  realized 
that  they  were  in  trouble.  The  big  cracks  at- 


The  Wild  Turkey  255 

tracted  their  gaze  upward,  and  against  these 
were  their  useless  efforts  directed.  Possibly,  if 
they  thought  over  the  matter  at  all,  they  fancied 
that  they  had  eaten  so  much  that  they  could 
not  pass  out  by  the  gaps  through  which  they 
must  have  passed  in.  Peradventure,  an  occa- 
sional bird,  falling  exhausted  by  terrified  efforts 
to  reach  the  places  where  the  light  shone,  did 
actually  tumble  into  the  trench  and  so  blunder 
to  freedom;  but  the  great  majority  failed  to  do 
so.  Not  being  aware  of  the  priceless  value  of  a 
shrewd  duck  for  a  low  bridge,  they  stalked  about 
with  long  necks  stretched  upward  to  their  fullest 
extent,  ever  striving  to  find  some  lofty  outlet. 
In  this  they  were  unmitigated  asses  —  in  fact, 
not  unlike  some  men. 

Then  to  the  pen  came  the  —  extremely  likely 
in  the  first  instance  —  the  Puritan  Parent  of  this 
our  race.  The  P.  P.  was  no  sportsman,  and 
I  can  well  imagine  the  horrified  turkeys  first 
hearing  his  nasal  whine  of  thanksgiving,  then 
catching  a  glimpse  of  his  wolfish  mug  through 
the  cracks,  and  immediately  afterward  catching 
the  very  devil  from  his  unsportsmanlike  club. 
After  him  came  another  class  of  settler,  per- 
haps more  parsimonious  in  the  matter  of  praise, 
more  profuse  in  profanity,  more  prolific  of  pens. 
In  any  event,  he  and  his  progeny  did  much  to 
clean  up  the  turkeys  as  they  did  grand  things  in 


256  The  Turkey  Family 

cleaning  up  the  new  acres.  The  wild  turkey  is  a 
lover  of  the  still  —  not  the  "  still "  of  quite  a  few 
of  his  human,  but  half-wild  neighbors,  but  the 
sweet  God-given  still  of  an  undisturbed  region. 

The  first  crash  of  villanous  saltpetre  which 
shattered  the  solemn  silence  of  those  ancient 
woods,  was  the  warning  of  the  doom  to  follow. 
The  novel  sound  of  axes  pecking  virgin  wood, 
the  dull,  splintering  roar  of  the  earthward  tree, 
the  "  heave-ho ! "  of  the  toiling  fathers,  sweating 
at  wall  of  rude  hut  and  arrow-proof  barricade, 
meant  more  to  strutting  gobbler  and  demure  hen 
than  their  untrained  brains  were  capable  of  grasp- 
ing. If  they  imagined  that  the  toiler  and  the 
"turk"  would  lie  down  together  side  by  side, 
they  were  right  —  but,  presumably,  they  did  not 
realize  which  side  the  turkey  would  occupy. 

Then  they  were  easy  game,  which  any  Puritan 
prowler  could  knock  over  on  the  ground,  or  perch, 
with  a  bell-mouth  of  antique  model.  But  as  they 
had  more  extensive  dealings  with  the  prayerful 
Pilgrims,  they  rapidly  acquired  sense ;  in  this 
respect,  to  my  notion,  being  considerably  in 
advance  of  that  other  game  —  the  American 
Indian.  Anyway  the  turkey  presently  made  the 
useful  discovery  that  about  one  hundred  yards 
was  the  proper  distance  at  which  to  keep  a  white 
man;  and  he  has  ever  since  insisted  upon  the 
observance  of  this  trifling  matter  of  etiquette  — 


The  Wild  Turkey  257 

that  is,  when  he  didn't  modify  his  rule  the  other 
way  and  make  it  two  hundred  yards. 

The  result  to-day  is,  that  when  found  near  well- 
settled  districts,  a  wary  old  gobbler  is  harder  to 
still-hunt  than  a  white-tailed  buck.  I  am  not  sure 
that,  if  either  had  to  be  hunted  on  a  wager,  the 
choice  would  fall  upon  the  gobbler.  A  good  man 
can  run  down  either,  or  at  least  stick  to  the  trail 
until  he  gets  a  fair  chance,  when,  of  course,  the 
deer  is  the  easier  mark.  The  buck  depends  upon 
his  nose,  ears,  and  legs  —  two  of  these  can  be  put 
out  of  commission  by  a  careful  observance  of  the 
wind.  The  gobbler  trusts  to  his  wonderful  sight, 
keen  ear,  and  sturdy  legs,  and  to  back  these  he 
has  a  pair  of  wings  which,  when  called  upon,  can 
render  amazing  assistance.  So,  while  at  first 
glance  the  buck  assuredly  would  seem  to  be  the 
harder  proposition,  the  reverse  frequently  is  the 
case.  The  power  of  the  bird's  eye,  and  the  range 
of  vision  which  by  reason  of  his  height  he  is  able 
to  command,  form  no  poor  protection,  and  in 
regions  where  he  has  been  much  molested  he 
will  be  found  "  educated  "  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
that  term.  The  weakness  of  his  present  system 
of  defensive  tactics  lies  in  the  fact  that  when 
flushed,  he  almost  invariably  flies  in  a  straight 
line.  An  experienced  hunter,  knowing  this, 
studies  the  tracks,  carefully  notes  the  direction 
of  the  quick  rush  before  the  bird  took  wing,  then 


258  The  Turkey  Family 

merrily  "  harks  forrard,"  confident  of  again  find- 
ing the  trail  about  the  edge  of  the  next  big  wood 
straight  ahead.  I  should  say  that  from  one-half 
to  three-quarters  of  a  mile  would  be  a  longish 
flight,  even  for  a  badly  scared  turkey;  but  they 
sometimes  go  much  farther. 

The  courtship  of  the  gobbler  is  impressive — 
nay !  mastodonic.  He  might  pose  as  the  living 
image  of  pompous  desire.  Most  people  have  seen 
a  strutting  domestic  gobbler,  and  the  wild  fellow 
has  it  just  as  bad.  The  masters  of  woodcraft,  the 
comparative  few  who  have  lain  out  from  long  be- 
fore sunrise  and  watched  the  strutting,  the  inflated 
posing,  and,  frequently,  the  fierce  fighting  of  the 
love-mad  gobblers,  have  enjoyed  a  performance 
which  no  other  American  game  can  hope  to  eclipse. 
But  the  man  who  would  watch  it  through  must  be 
sly  and  silent  as  the  lynx,  for  while  a  hot-blooded 
gobbler  might  be  a  bit  careless,  the  cooler-headed 
hens  are  close  by  and  their  eyes  are  wondrous 
sharp.  And  even  a  gobbler  disturbed  at  the 
height  of  his  strutting  is  no  fool.  Let  him  even 
suspect  danger,  and  his  pride  at  once  collapses 
and  he  is  off  like  a  silent-footed  shadow.  In  spite 
of  all  their  stately  courtship,  the  males  are  polyg- 
amous old  reprobates  and  worse ;  for  not  only  do 
they  desert  the  hens  so  soon  as  the  love  season 
has  ended,  but  not  a  mother's  son  of  'em  would 
hesitate  to  smash  eggs  or  brain  chicks  if  either 


The  Wild  Turkey  259 

were  within  reach.  Knowing  this,  the  crafty  hens 
carefully  hide  their  nests,  and  are  mighty  careful 
not  to  give  their  lord  the  private  address.  In 
turkeydom  there  is  no  such  word  as  "  latch-key," 
nor  would  the  blustering  old  rip  use  it  if  he  had 
it,  except  he  meant  to  cut  up  and  smash  the  out- 
fit. The  very  last  sound  the  hen  turkey  would 
care  to  hear  would  be  the  homeward  step  of  her 
lord  of  creation,  from  which  it  would  appear  that 
some  hens  know  when  they  are  well  off. 

The  nest  is  a  very  crude  example  of  bird  archi- 
tecture, being  a  slight  hollow  roughly  lined  with 
leaves.  I  have  found  it  beside  a  stump,  or  log, 
and  once  under  a  big  brush-pile.  The  number  of 
eggs  varies  from  about  eight  to  a  dozen.  They 
are  like  those  of  the  domestic  bird,  white,  freckled 
with  reddish  brown.  Old  woodsmen  have  told 
me  that  the  third  season's  laying  is  the  largest, 
and  that  the  young  hen's  first  lot  numbers  seven 
or  eight,  one  or  two  more  the  next  season,  and 
still  more  the  third,  after  which  the  number  de- 
creases season  by  season.  This  I  suspect  to  be 
true,  for  it  is  reasonable,  and  the  foxy  old  fellows 
who  told  me  had  robbed  many  nests  in  spite  of 
the  law,  not  to  eat  the  eggs,  but  to  put  them 
under  domestic  fowl.  Furthermore,  the  men 
uniformly  claimed  that  the  young  from  eggs 
stolen  when  almost  hatched  and  hurried  to  the 
care  of  a  fowl,  were  invariably  wilder  and  more 


260  The  Turkey  Family 

difficult  to  keep  than  were  those  hatched  from 
eggs  taken  before  the  wild  bird  had  begun  to  sit. 
This  would  be  interesting  if  it  could  be  proved, 
but,  without  proof,  I  question  it,  although  it  might 
be  so.  The  same  men,  inveterate  poachers  all 
and  wise  concerning  dogs,  would  not  give  a  rap 
for  a  pointer,  setter,  or  hound  puppy  that  had  been 
reared  by  any  non-sporting  foster-mother,  with 
the  single  exception  of  a  collie.  They  claimed 
that  the  collie  had  brains  and  could  hunt  well  if 
properly  taught,  and  that  her  milk  had  the  same 
properties  as '  that  of  a  hunting  dog,  which  was 
true ;  and  that  a  common  barnyard  fowl,  or  even 
a  domestic  turkey-hen  (providing  there  was  no 
too  near  wild  cross),  in  some  mysterious  way  in- 
fluenced the  chicks  in  the  eggs  she  covered,  if  she 
got  the  eggs  before  a  wild  bird  had  partially  de- 
veloped the  chicks.  While  most  unscientific  old 
men  are  both  superstitious  and  bull-headed  on 
points  of  this  kind,  there  frequently  is  a  grain  of 
truth  somewhere  at  the  bottom  of  their  philoso- 
phy. Possibly  a  trace  of  it  might  be  found  here. 
Contrary  to  a  somewhat  prevalent  belief,  the 
variety  of  turkey  now  under  discussion,  which  I 
may  term  the  bird  of  the  North,  is  not  the  original 
parent  of  all  domestic  turkeys.  While  most  of 
these,  bronze,  white,  black,  brown,  and  gray,  are 
descended  from  wild  American  stock,  the  first 
turkeys  to  cross  the  ocean  were  of  the  Mexican 


The  WM  Turkey  161 

race,  now  scientifically  known  as  Meleagris  gallo- 
pavo,  of  Texas  and  Mexico. 

The  young,  for  a  time,  are  very  delicate,  any- 
thing like  a  wetting  being  almost  certainly  fatal 
to  them.  The  hen  knows  this,  and  she  is  ex- 
tremely careful  not  to  lead  her  chicks  into  damp 
cover,  or  to  allow  them  to  expose  themselves  to 
even  a  smart  shower.  Under  her  ample  feathery 
tent  they  are  well  protected,  and  she  keeps  them 
there  till  her  loving  instinct  tells  it  is  safe  for 
them  to  move.  An  old  farmer  once  told  me  that 
he  had  seen  a  hen  cover  her  chicks  before  a 
shower  which  began  shortly  after  he  had  finished 
his  breakfast.  He  was  working  in  a  bit  of  woods, 
and  when  he  went  to  the  house  for  his  dinner  the 
hen  had  not  moved,  although  the  rain  had  entirely 
ceased  some  three  hours  before.  After  the  young 
have  attained  the  size  of  grouse  they  appear  to 
shake  off  all  infantile  weaknesses,  and,  once 
matured,  they  are  as  hardy  as  so  many  deer. 

The  chief  food  of  the  chicks  is  insects,  notably 
grasshoppers,  of  which  they  are  persistent  hunters. 
As  the  season  advances  they  devour  seeds,  berries, 
grapes,  and  grain.  Later,  they  turn  to  mast, 
especially  acorns  and  chestnuts.  As  the  nuts 
of  a  district  become  exhausted,  the  birds  shift 
headquarters  to  new  territory.  About  this  time 
two  or  more  broods  are  apt  to  join  forces,  which 
fact  probably  accounts  for  the  very  large  flocks 


262  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

frequently  seen.  These  "  gangs,"  as  the  farmers 
term  them,  are  joined  by  the  old  males — now 
as  peaceable  as  lambs  —  and  the  recruited  flock 
fares  forward,  often  for  long  distances.  When 
very  large  broods  of  half-feathered  young  are  seen, 
they  are  good  evidence  that  two  hens  have  nested 
together,  which  not  infrequently  happens  with 
both  wild  and  tame  birds.  When  two  or  more 
"  gangs  "  unite  then  is  formed  one  of  the  great 
flocks,  once  quite  common,  but  now  so  seldom 
seen. 

The  frequently  referred  to  migrations  of  these 
strong  flocks  can  hardly  be  considered  a  true 
migration,  although  unquestionably  there  is  a 
more  or  less  extended  movement  which  occasion- 
ally amounts  to  a  partial  migration.  So  far  as 
I  have  been  able  to  discover,  this  movement  is 
not  necessarily  toward  one  point  of  the  compass, 
and  I  have  known  of  several  fair-sized  flocks 
which  showed  no  disposition  to  forsake  suitable 
quarters.  The  fact  is  that  a  large  flock  requires 
a  deal  of  food,  and  the  birds  know  enough  to 
forsake  a  failing  section  before  famine  threatens. 
Being  famous  travellers  where  occasion  demands, 
they  are  apt  to  suddenly  appear  in  some  district 
where  the  mast  is  unusually  abundant,  and  to 
leave  it  so  soon  as  the  food  supply  becomes 
unreliable. 

The  spectacle  of  a  great  flock  crossing  a  broad 


Tbe  Wild  Turkey  263 

river  has  been  denied  me,  that  is,  the  adventure 
as  described  by  a  number  of  excellent  writers. 
The  few  flocks  I  have  seen  cross  streams  made 
no  preliminary  fuss,  nor  did  they  bother  about 
ascending  trees.  They  simply  "  took  off  "  where 
they  happened  to  reach  the  bank,  and  flew,  not 
only  across  the  stream,  but  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance beyond  the  farther  bank  —  possibly  half  a 
mile  in  all.  The  accepted  version,  which  I  do 
not  at  all  dispute,  says  that  when  the  flock  has 
reached  a  broad  river  it  halts  upon  the  bank, 
perhaps  for  days,  while  the  birds  figure  out  how 
best  to  tackle  the  difficulty.  Meanwhile,  the 
males  do  some  strutting  to  encourage  the  younger 
and  more  timid  members.  Finally,  all  hands 
ascend  to  the  tops  of  convenient  trees,  from  which 
they  fly  to  the  opposite  shore.  Should  any  fail 
to  make  it  and  fall  into  the  water,  he  needs  must 
swim,  for  there's  no  other  course  open,  except  he 
dives  and  walks  out  on  the  bottom,  which,  by 
the  way,  he  cannot  do.  This  is  all  reasonable 
enough.  That  a  turkey  can  swim  for  a  consider- 
able distance  I  know  to  my  sorrow,  for  two 
reasons,  as  follows. 

Years  ago  the  beautiful  work  of  the  gifted 
Scotch  weaver-naturalist,  Alexander  Wilson,  was 
my  dearest  prized  possession.  Now  the  youthful 
worship  of  Wilson  was  not  unlike  the  worship 
of  a  few  other  idols,  inasmuch  as  it  demanded  a 


264  The  Turkey  Family 

trifle  of  swallowing  without  too  much  mastication. 
I  swallowed  blindly  and  bravely  until  a  paragraph 
was  reached  which  described  the  swimming  which 
"  they  do  dexterously  enough,  spreading  their 
tails  for  a  support,  closing  their  wings  to  the  body, 
stretching  the  neck  forward,  and  striking  out 
quickly  and  forcibly  with  their  legs.  If,  in  thus 
endeavoring  to  regain  the  land,  they  approach  an 
elevated  or  inaccessible  bank,  their  exertions  are 
remitted,  they  resign  themselves  to  the  stream  for 
a  short  time,  in  order  to  gain  strength,  and  then, 
with  one  violent  effort,  escape  from  the  water." 

I  was  astonished !  Wilson,  of  all  men,  to  make 
such  a  statement,  when  I  knew  that  a  turkey 
could  not  swim  any  better  than  a  brickbat !  Then 
came  the  soothing  recollection  that  Wilson  him- 
self did  not  write  the  turkey  matter,  it  being  in 
the  "  Continuation  "  by  Bonaparte.  This  was  not 
so  bad,  but  still  the  princely  author  was  wrong. 
But  how  to  prove  it?  Easy  enough.  There 
was  a  farmer  near  by  who  had  turkeys  of  wild 
blood,  and  the  river  sang  below.  To  get  into  a 
punt,  paddle  to  the  landing,  beg  the  temporary 
loan  of  a  young  gobbler  from  the  fattening  pen, 
were  all  simple  matters. 

"  Wot  the  divvul  fur  ?  "  queried  the  jolly  Mile- 
sian when  the  object  of  the  call  had  been  ex- 
plained. 

"  Oh,  you'll  see ! "  was  all  the  explanation,  as 


The  IVM  Turkey  265 

the  bird  was  carried  to  the  boat.  When  fairly 
in  mid-stream,  over  went  the  gobbler,  and  up  from 
the  bank  rose  a  storm  of  reckless  speech,  amid 
which  could  be  distinguished  "  Git  him  out  of 
thot,  ur  Oi'll  rock  yez  !  "  And  the  rock  pile  was 
mighty  "  Convaynyent." 

"  Charge  it  to  Charles  Lucian  Bonaparte,  Prince 
of  Musignano ! "  I  yelled,  as  the  paddle  bent,  but 
he  didn't.  Instead,  he  charged  it  to  the  "  ould 
man,"  who  later  took  the  change  out  of  my  hide. 
So  far  as  I  waited  to  see,  that  particular  turkey 
did  flap  along  the  top  of  the  water  for  at  least  a 
few  yards.  The  Irishman  swore  that  it  was  his 
best  bird  and  that  it  "drown-ded,"  yards  from 
shore,  the  absolute  truth  of  which  I  am  inclined 
to  doubt  During  the  next  six  weeks  I  beat  that 
Irishman  to  the  paternal  gate  sometimes  one  yard, 
sometimes  ayard  and  a  half — according  to  the  start 
we  happened  to  get.  Then  we  patched  up  a  truce. 

My  second  experience  with  a  swimming  turkey 
was  very  different  and  also  very  bitter.  I  had 
found  fresh  "sign  "  about  a  forest-bordered  marsh, 
near  the  centre  of  which  spread  an  acre  or  more 
of  open  water.  The  proper  game  of  the  day  was 
grouse,  and  there  was  no  tracking  snow.  A  tre- 
mendous threshing  among  the  withered  rushes 
and  leafless  scrub  attracted  my  attention  to  a 
grand  gobbler,  which  a  few  seconds  later  rose 
above  the  growth  and  flew  toward  the  wood.  To 


266  The  Turkey  Family 

snap  at  him  was  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and 
he  sank,  struggling  furiously,  with  a  broken  pinion. 
He  fell  into  the  open  water,  and  immediately 
began  flapping  for  the  farther  side  of  the  marsh. 
The  way  round  the  marsh  was  long,  and  before 
it  was  more  than  half  covered,  the  gobbler  had 
reached  firm  footing  and  made  off,  running  as 
only  a  winged  gobbler  can.  As  there  was  no 
trail  to  follow,  he  escaped.  He  must  have  flapped 
across  about  thirty  yards  of  deep,  open  water. 
Those  who  have  lost  such  a  prize  know  exactly 
what  the  subsequent  sensations  are  like. 

When  the  young  turkeys  are  sufficiently  strong, 
the  hen  takes  them  for  long  rambles  through 
woods,  brushy  lands,  and  opens.  She  is  unremit- 
ting in  her  care  and  watchfulness,  her  long  neck 
is  ever  stretching  up  and  bending  this  way  and 
that,  while  keen  eyes  and  ears  form  a  double 
guard  of  unsurpassed  efficiency.  The  enemies 
most  to  be  feared  are  the  large  birds  of  prey, 
foxes,  coons,  the  lynx,  and  such  of  the  cat  kind  as 
inhabit  the  southern  ranges.  The  great  horned 
owl  is  an  aggressive  foe,  especially  of  half-grown 
birds,  of  which  he  takes  many  off  the  roost. 

Bonaparte  gives  a  most  readable  description  of 
the  night  attack  by  an  owl  upon  turkeys  roosting 
in  a  tree.  He  says :  "  The  owl  sails  around 
the  spot  to  select  his  prey ;  but,  notwithstanding 
the  almost  inaudible  action  of  his  pinions,  the 


The  Wild  Turkey  267 

quick  ear  of  one  of  the  slumberers  perceives 
the  danger,  which  is  immediately  announced  to 
the  whole  party  by  a  chuck ;  thus  alarmed,  they  rise 
on  their  legs,  and  watch  the  motions  of  the  owl, 
who,  darting  like  an  arrow,  would  inevitably  secure 
the  individual  at  which  he  aimed,  did  not  the 
latter  suddenly  drop  his  head,  squat,  and  spread 
his  tail  over  his  back ;  the  owl  then  glances  over 
without  inflicting  any  injury,  at  the  very  instant 
that  the  turkey  surfers  himself  to  fall  headlong 
toward  the  earth,  where  he  is  secure  from  his 
dreaded  enemy." 

This  is  purely  imaginary.  How  could  he  see 
what  the  owl  did,  or  what  the  turkeys  did  ?  Those 
who  have  shot  turkeys  on  the  roost  know  how 
much,  or  rather  how  little,  of  detail  can  be  seen 
even  in  the  brightest  of  moonlight.  And,  while 
the  naturalist  certainly  might  cautiously  approach 
the  slumbering  turkeys,  how  about  the  owl?  That 
bird  is  not  at  all  careless  of  his  own  safety ;  his 
eyes  are  for  night  service  and  his  ears  wonder- 
fully acute  —  why  wouldn't  he  see,  or  hear,  the 
naturalist?  Again,  as  regards  the  turkeys'  — 
sleeping  turkeys  at  that  —  hearing  the  owl's  wing, 
sailing  too !  and  that  wing  especially  equipped 
with  a  feather  formation  to  prevent  sound.  And 
then  the  darting  like  an  arrow  —  no  owl,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  the  hawk-owl,  and  that  other 
day  hunter,  the  snowy  owl,  ever  darts  anything 


268  The  Turkey  Family 

like  an  arrow.  All  the  owls  that  I  have  seen,  and 
they  number  quite  a  few,  sidled  noiselessly  up  to 
the  prey,  and  then  grabbed  it  with  hooks  that 
seldom  miss.  Finally,  the  turkey  falling  "  head- 
long,"—  if  it  ever  reached  the  ground  in  that 
fashion,  and  was  fat  and  consequently  heavy, 
it  would  stand  a  good  chance  of  breaking  its 
limber  neck,  to  say  nothing  of  rapping  its  pecul- 
iarly tender  head  against  something  much  harder. 
Any  country  boy  knows  how  easy  it  is  to  tempo- 
rarily stun  a  turkey,  even  with  that  handy  missile, 
a  green  apple.  And  after  the  turkey  had  fallen 
headlong  to  the  ground,  what  then  ?  It  would 
simply  be  precisely  where  old  Bubo  virginianus 
would  prefer  to  have  it,  whether  he  caught  it  on 
the  fly,  or  the  first  bounce,  one  or  other  of  which 
he  would  be  mighty  apt  to  do !  No,  a  turkey  of 
very  limited  night  vision,  going  to  the  shadows 
to  hide  from  a  great  horned  owl,  that  probably 
could  see  well  enough  to  count  the  hairs  on  a 
black  cat  sitting  on  a  coal  pile  in  a  cellar,  is  not 
sound  protective  tactics.  Nor  will  the  theory  that 
there  might  be  convenient  brush  to  screen  the 
turkey  when  on  the  ground  bear  out  the  state- 
ment. A  great  horned  owl  will  walk  into  a  hen- 
house, or  under  an  outbuilding,  or  fallen  tree,  kill 
under  the  shelter,  and  then  drag  out  his  kill.  This 
I  have  more  than  once  seen  him  do,  and  I  have 
scored  my  kill  by  moonlight  as  he  dragged  forth 
the  victim. 


The  Wild  Turkey  269 

The  sportsmanlike  methods  of  shooting  the 
turkey  include  "calling"  or  "yelping"  and  still- 
hunting,  i.e.  tracking  upon  snow.  The  night- 
attack,  shooting  on  the  roost,  is  unworthy  of  any 
man  claiming  to  be  a  legitimate  son  of  Nimrod. 
Now  and  then  some  lucky  individual  has  a  chance 
at  a  close-lying  bird,  which  the  setter  or  pointer 
seeking  other  game  stumbles  upon;  but  these 
occasions  are  too  rare  to  be  considered  a  form 
of  the  sport.  Coursing  turkeys  with  greyhounds, 
as  is  sometimes  done  in  the  West,  has  a  dash 
peculiar  to  itself.  Shooting  on  the  feeding-grounds 
from  ambush  is  uncertain  enough  to  be  consid- 
ered fair,  while  any  other  way  of  ambushing  a 
turkey  would  most  likely  fall  under  the  head  of 
accidental  opportunities. 

The  coursing  of  the  turkey  is  the  sort  of  sport 
to  stir  the  blood  of  a  genuine  sportsman.  Briefly, 
it  is  as  follows :  The  game  is  given  to  feeding 
from  the  roost  among  the  timber  of  a  river  bank, 
or  bottom,  far  out  upon  the  open  plain  where 
insects  naturally  are  most  abundant.  A  well- 
mounted  man,  accompanied  by  a  strong  grey- 
hound, hides  in  the  cover  until  he  sees  the  flock 
has  ranged  sufficiently  far  from  the  timber  for  his 
purpose.  Then  the  dog  is  "  sighted,"  slipped, 
and  as  he  springs  away  the  horseman  gives  swift 
chase.  The  object  is  to  rush  a  big  gobbler  so 
that  he  will  take  wing  when  headed  for  the  open. 


270  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

He  will  not  turn,  and  the  fatter  and  finer  he  may 
be,  the  shorter  will  be  his  first  and  best  flight. 
The  business  of  the  dog  is  to  run  him  gamely  and 
fast,  the  horse's  part  is  to  stretch  himself  till  his 
belly  almost  sweeps  the  grass,  to  drum  off  a  mad 
burst  of  speed,  and  to  mind  where  he  puts  his  feet, 
for  a  burrow  carelessly  stepped  in  may  mean  a 
broken  leg,  a  parabolic  flight  for  the  rider,  a 
few  impromptu  flipflaps,  or  possibly  one  or  two 
broken  necks.  The  man's  task  is  to  stick  on  and 
yell  in  fair  proportion. 

Here,  surely,  is  action  to  suit  the  wildest  mad- 
cap who  ever  rowelled  a  nag  or  staked  his  neck 
on  the  hazard  of  a  manly  venture.  And  it  is 
clean,  wholesome,  dashing  sport,  too,  in  the  fair- 
est of  fair  fields  where  all  favors  must  needs  be 
won.  Impossible  in  the  forested  East,  where 
tree  boles  and  boughs  only  recognize  the  wonder- 
ful human  frame  as  so  much  desirable  fertilizer, 
it  might  be  made  a  grand  sport  of  the  leagues 
upon  leagues  of  plains  which  offer  the  necessary 
scope,  and  ask  only  the  proper  legal  protection  of 
the  quarry. 

But  the  desperate  chase  is  on !  The  gobbler, 
after  his  quick  starting  run,  beats  his  way  upward 
on  mottled  fans,  then  steadies  to  his  horizontal 
flight.  It  is  so  easy.  It  is  true  that  the  grass 
spreads  like  a  sleeping  sea  for  miles  ahead,  but 
what  of  that?  He  is  a  winged  thing,  and  is  a 


The  Wild  Turkey 

winged  thing  to  bother  about  the  miserable 
doings  of  a  trio  of  wretched  earthlings  foolishly 
scratching  at  the  grass  there  a  half-mile  behind  ? 

The  wretched  earthlings,  however,  know  their 
business,  and  they  keep  pegging  away,  each 
meanwhile  thrilling  with  his  own  brand  of  un- 
holy joy.  On  and  on  they  sweep!  The  grand 
dog,  fairly  hurling  himself  ahead  in  long  rubbery 
bounds,  the  stout  little  horse  buckling  down  to 
his  task  of  keeping  close  to  his  almost  flying 
canine  friend,  and  the  yelling  man  riding  as  they 
of  the  West  ride,  i.e.  like  so  much  horse-hide  in  its 
proper  place. 

Barring  accident  to  the  dog,  the  turkey  is 
doomed.  His  prime  condition  makes  him  short- 
winded,  while  the  unusual  efforts  a-wing  only  add 
to  his  plight.  Soon  he  slants  to  the  ground  to 
give  his  strong  legs  an  opportunity.  But  fleet 
though  he  be,  his  best  effort  is  pitiful  in  com- 
parison with  that  of  the  animal  whirlwind  at  his 
heels.  This  he  soon  realizes,  and,  in  spite  of  a 
lack  of  wind,  he  again  must  take  wing.  This  is 
the  beginning  of  the  end.  Even  should  he  turn 
about  and  endeavor  to  regain  the  cover  he  so 
rashly  forsook,  it  would  end  the  same,  for  in  his 
present  condition  he  is  unable  to  duplicate  the 
first  long  flight.  That  was  his  limit,  and  when 
wild  things  are  pressed  to  their  limit,  most  of 
them  lose  heart.  Still,  he  is  good  for  another 


272  The  Turkey  Family 

shorter  flight,  but  as  he  rises  the  remorseless  pur- 
suers are  drawing  perilously  near.  Up  he  goes, 
and  flies  —  this  time  lower  and  heavier. 

Now  is  the  time  for  the  dog  to  prove  his  blood 
and  courage.  He  has  been  going  like  the  wind, 
his  lithe  spine  arching  and  straightening  with 
superb  regularity,  his  sharp  snout  splitting  the 
air  that  pins  back  his  thin  ears  and  hums  to 
them  of  glorious  victory.  The  wirelike  cords 
have  driven  the  lean  limbs  till  they  blurred  with 
speed,  yet  somewhere  in  the  wonderful  machine  is 
that  one  ounce  more,  which  only  a  game  man 
and  a  clean-bred  horse  and  dog  possess  when 
comes  the  final  drive.  Fifty  yards  away,  and 
now  for  it ! 

The  fierce  whoop  from  behind  thrills  him  like 
an  electric  wave,  and  mindful  of  the  fame  of  his 
long  line  of  coursing  sires,  he  shakes  out  that  last 
link  which  has  won  yards  of  blue  ribbon  over- 
sea. His  eyes,  which  never  for  an  instant  have 
left  the  quarry,  are  blazing  with  that  savage  light 
which  kindles  only  for  the  supreme  effort.  He 
sees  the  struggling  fowl  slowly  lowering;  he 
hears  the  medley  of  voice  and  hoof-beats;  he 
knows  that  his  friend,  the  horse,  and  his  god,  the 
man,  are  with  him ;  and  like  the  hero  he  is,  he 
throws  the  last  ounce  of  his  power  into  his  mad- 
dening task.  Three  more  strides  !  hip  !  —  hip !  — 
hip !  —  up  goes  the  lancelike  muzzle,  the  lean 


The  Wild  Turkey  273 

jaws  spread,  then  close  with  a  snap  like  a  wolf- 
trap.  Six  feet  above  the  grass,  the  long,  white 
fangs  find  welcome  sheath,  and  when  the  tangle 
of  mottled  wings  and  panting  dog  unravels  itself, 
there  are  several  widowed  turkey  ladies  some- 
where in  the  distant  scrub. 

Two  minutes  later  the  horse's  heaving  flanks 
are  working  behind  a  slackened  cinch ;  the  man 
is  lying  on  the  grass  and  laughing  at  the  dog,  for 
that  worthy  —  breathing  like  a  locomotive,  and 
with  about  a  foot  of  tongue  swinging  from  his 
dripping  jaws  — is  clawing  himself  along  on  his 
belly  in  an  earnest  attempt  to  get  closer  to  the 
only  animal  that  would  ever  attempt  to  make 
other  animals  almost  burst  their  hearts  and  run 
their  legs  off,  just  for  fun! 

If  coursing  turkeys  be  not  sport,  then  there 
is  no  merit  in  dash  and  action,  which,  under 
proper  conditions,  it  certainly  should  supply. 
To  my  notion,  too,  there  might  be  a  deal  of 
sport  in  hawking  turkeys,  in  the  same  sort  of 
country. 

The  "  calling,"  or  "  yelping,"  is  not  the  simple 
matter  which  the  uninitiated  might  deem  it.  The 
chief  difficulty  is  found,  first,  in  correctly  imitating 
the  love-call  of  the  hen,  and  second  in  crouching, 
maybe  for  a  long  while,  perfectly  still.  Those 
who  think  keeping  perfectly  still  an  easy  occu- 
pation, are  either  ignorant  or  thoroughly  seasoned, 


274  The  Turkey  Family 

for  truly  it  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  tasks  to  a 
novice. 

Calling  is  possible  at  two  seasons,  but  only 
reliable  at  one,  the  mating-time.  Owing  to  the 
game  laws  it  is  a  method  mainly  confined  to  the 
South.  The  few  times  I  have  tried  it  in  the  North, 
of  course  in  the  fall,  have  been  toward  dusk  and 
after  we  had  scattered  a  brood  of  that  year  in 
heavy  brush.  Upon  these  occasions  the  "  caller  " 
was  a  common  brier  pipe  with  a  hard  rubber  stem. 
I  had  been  smoking  it  most  of  the  day,  and  the 
first  attempt  at  calling  was  purely  an  experiment. 
We  had  been  quietly  sitting  at  the  edge  of  the 
cover  (which  was  entirely  too  dry  and  dense  for 
anything  like  still-hunting),  in  the  hope  that  the 
brood  might  work  back  to  the  open  and  possibly 
afford  a  chance.  My  companion  wearied  of  the 
seemingly  useless  wait,  and,  half  in  jest,  I  tried  a 
bit  of  calling. 

This  calling,  imitating  the  yelp  of  the  bird, 
yunk-yunk-yunk,  is  done  by  sucking  air  through 
a  turkey  bone,  or  a  new,  common  clay  pipe.  A 
hand  over  the  bone  or  the  pipe-bowl  regulates  the 
volume  of  sound,  which  is  produced  by  an  inter- 
rupted sucking  between  the  compressed  lips,  dif- 
ficult to  describe  in  detail.  Upon  the  occasion 
referred  to,  wherein  the  wood  pipe  figured,  the 
bowl  was  first  carefully  cleaned,  and  then  a  trial 
was  risked.  Greatly  to  my  comrade's  astonish- 


The  Wild  Turkey 


275 


ment,  very  fair  yelping  resulted,  and  a  prompt 
response  added  to  his  wonder.  To  be  candid, 
the  note  was  off,  a  bit  too  dull  and  heavy,  but  the 
birds  were  young  and  anxious  to  go  to  roost,  so  it 
did  not  greatly  matter.  Just  when  the  darkness 
was  closing,  my  friend  got  an  easy  chance  and 
knocked  over  a  couple  of  two-thirds  grown  birds, 
the  second  of  which  he  did  not  see  when  he  fired. 
A  few  moments  later  I  got  —  a  smoke !  for  there 
was  no  earthly  use  in  further  calling  after  the  row 
his  gun  had  raised.  The  experiment,  however, 
had  its  value,  for  it  revealed  the  unsuspected  fact 
that  young  scattered  turkeys  would  respond  to  an 
imitation  of  the  hen's  yelp,  and  the  information 
proved  useful  later  on. 

The  more  common  spring  calling  is  an  appeal 
to  the  passion  of  the  male.  Some  sportsmen 
object  to  it  on  the  ground  that  it  is  taking  a  mean 
advantage  of  the  amorous  gobbler.  They  argue 
that  to  sing  the  siren  song  of  love  until  the  hot- 
headed lover  is  lured  within  a  few  yards  is,  to  say 
the  least,  questionable ;  but  with  all  due  respect 
to  them,  I  claim  that  this  calling  has  its  redeem- 
ing features.  Fairly  considered,  it  is  no  mean 
test  of  one's  knowledge  of  turkey  ways  and  skill 
in  conversing  in  the  turkish  tongue,  for  where 
birds  are  educated  no  duffer  can  succeed  at  it. 
He  may  elicit  responses  a  plenty,  but  the  odds  are 
that  the  gobbler  will  detect  the  cheat  before  he  has 


176  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

come  within  shotgun  range,  or  even  exposed  him- 
self to  rifle  fire. 

The  typical  calling  is  something  like  this.  The 
caller  carefully  conceals  himself  (usually  before 
dawn)  near  where  turkeys  are  "  using,"  and  when 
the  gobblers  make  themselves  heard,  which  they 
are  sure  to  do,  he  sends  forth  a  shyly  suggestive 
response.  His  object  is  to  persuade  some  fool 
gobbler  that  the  fattest  and  prettiest  hen  in  the 
whole  country  craveth  an  interview.  If  the  cry 
of  the  hen  could  be  put  into  the  "  personal  column  " 
of  some  paper,  it  presumably  would  read  some- 
thing like  this :  "  Would  the  large,  handsome  gen- 
tleman with  the  copper  clothes,  the  red  neck,  and 
the  superb  baritone  voice  meet  the  soprano  lady 
in  gray  walking  suit,  at  the  basswood  stump  ? 
Object,  a  pleasant  friendship  and  general  good 
time." 

"Would  he?  Well,  ra-ather ! "  Being  like  some 
men,  he  gobbles  about  it,  puffs  out  his  chest, 
struts  around,  and  keeps  edging  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  stump.  He  distinctly  sees  the  rendezvous, 
he  distinctly  hears  the  dulcet  soprano;  but  he 
doesn't  see  or  hear  the  evil-minded  person  who 
is  hunched  up  behind  that  stump,  his  hands  full 
of  rifle  or  shotgun  and  his  heart  full  of  murderous 
design.  The  gobbler  drops  his  wings  and  fans 
his  tail  for  just  one  more  impressive  strut,  then 
he  dies  of  lead  poisoning  and  shock. 


The  Wild  Turkey  177 

This  sounds  very  easy,  but  it  is  not  every 
sportsman  who  can  call  so  perfectly  as  to  deceive 
the  gobbler's  keen  ear.  A  single  false  note  may 
spoil  the  game,  while  a  serious  blunder  will  surely 
send  the  bird  to  cover  with  truly  marvellous  speed, 
and  he  will  not  return.  The  actual  shooting  is 
easy,  for  lost  nerve  is  about  the  only  excuse  for 
missing  with  rifle  or  gun  at  such  short  range.  In 
justice  therefore  to  "  calling,"  I  may  say  that  the 
skill  necessary  to  deceive  the  bird,  together  with 
the  wary  patience  required,  are  sufficient  to  raise 
it  above  the  level  of  pot-hunting. 

But  the  sport  of  sports  with  the  turkey  is  track- 
ing in  the  snow.  It  is  difficult,  frequently  down- 
right hard  work,  and  it  will  test  a  man's  woodcraft 
to  the  utmost ;  but  then,  a  fairly  earned  gobbler  is 
nobler  quarry  than  a  buck. 

Turkey  tracking  in  great  woodlands,  especially 
when  the  birds  are  few,  is  a  blending  of  the  un- 
expected with  the  might-have-been.  The  slight- 
est miscalculation  or  accident  may  ruin  one's 
chance  for  a  day,  while  it  is  quite  possible  to 
follow  a  big  gobbler  from  a  wintry  dawn  to  dusk 
and  not  obtain  one  fair  chance  at  him. 

The  ideal  day  for  tracking  seldom  comes.  If  I 
were  to  name  the  conditions  they  should  be :  first, 
a  cold  snap  to  secure  every  bush  pond  and  marshy 
bit  with  ice  that  would  bear  a  man's  weight,  then 
a  six-inch  snowfall,  followed  by  one  of  those 


278  The  Turkey  Family 

gloriously  bright,  crisp,  windless  days  which 
enable  one  to  see  distinctly  even  in  timber  and 
to  keep  comfortably  warm  without  danger  of  over- 
heating under  pressure.  These  conditions  are  by 
no  means  the  easiest,  for,  while  the  bird's  feet  will 
sink  deeply  in  new  and  consequently  light  snow, 
a  strong  turkey  can  stand  miles  of  such  going. 
The  hardest  task  for  the  birds  is  deep  wet  snow, 
but  this  usually  means  an  overcast  sky  and  a 
consequent  very  poor  light  in  any  sort  of  cover. 
Most  veteran  turkey  hunters  prefer  these  rather 
sombre  conditions  simply  because  they  are  apt  to 
mean  easier  meat,  but  a  fig  for  easy  meat ! 

What  the  enthusiast  wants  is  the  beauty,  the 
unsullied  freshness,  of  a  spotless  world  illumed  by 
that  teacher-light  from  which  we  learned  about 
the  sparks  that  kindle  under  the  touch  of  the 
daintiest  hand.  A  sunny  day  in  the  woods  when 
the  shadows  lie  like  velvet  upon  marble ;  when 
the  eye  can  pierce  every  snarl  of  vine  or  far  corri- 
dor; when  the  feet  are  muffled  in  soft,  silent 
white,  when  the  crack  of  elfin  pistols  tells  where 
the  frost  is  working  at  the  sap,  —  surely  that  is  a 
day  to  be  out,  turkey  or  no  turkey !  Brightness 
is  the  thing  —  within  doors  and  without. 

Let  the  sage  of  the  trail  smile,  an  it  so  please 
him.  He  might  prefer  an  easier  day ;  if  so,  he's 
welcome  to  it.  When  I  go  into  the  woods  it  is 
mainly  on  the  trail  of  pure  pleasure  and  whole- 


The  Wild  Turkey 


279 


some  exercise.  The  turkey  is  merely  an  accessory 
—  the  cap-sheaf  of  the  stook  if  you  will,  but  not 
much  of  a  stook  if  considered  alone.  Twenty-five 
pounds  of  gobbler  is  a  fat  reward  —  a  noble  prize ; 
but  to  be  properly  appreciated  it  should  be  won 
at  the  close,  not  near  the  beginning,  of  a  day. 
Hence  the  bright,  still  day  is  preferable. 

Put  a  good  man  on  the  trail  of  a  flock  in  deep, 
damp  snow,  and  it's  odds  on  that  he  will  kill  his 
first  bird  within  a  few  hours,  and  he  may  get 
three  or  four  before  dark.  He  will  follow  steadily, 
patiently,  remorselessly,  wherever  the  tracks  may 
lead.  Should  the  flock  flush  from  any  cause,  he 
will  take  the  direction  from  the  few  long  strides 
the  game  made  before  rising,  and  will  push  on. 
He  knows  that  turkeys  fly  straight  and  not  very 
far,  and  that  the  tracks  will  be  found  somewhere 
ahead.  If  he  be  cautious,  the  game  is  not  likely 
to  again  take  wing.  Within  a  reasonable  time, 
in  such  going,  even  turkey  legs  become  weary, 
and  a  single  track  will  be  found  diverging  from 
the  main  trail. 

To  the  experienced  the  sign  is  plain.  The 
maker  of  the  single  track  is  tired  and  has  slipped 
ta  one  side  to  hide.  If  the  man  has  a  shotgun,  he 
will  follow  this  single  track ;  if  a  rifle,  he  will  keep 
on  after  the  flock.  The  single  bird  will  surely  be 
crouched  in  some  cover  near  where  it  left  the 
flock,  and  it  will  almost  certainly  flush  within 


280  The  Turkey  Family 

close  range  and  afford  a  comparatively  easy  chance. 
After  securing  it,  the  man  will  sling  it  over  his 
back  and  again  follow  the  flock  until  another  di- 
verging track  is  noted. 

The  man  with  the  rifle  pays  no  attention  to  the 
side  tracks  because  the  promised  chance  means 
a  flying  shot,  or  at  the  best  a  glimpse  of  the  bird 
running  at  full  speed.  At  either  of  these  the  rifle 
is  practically  useless,  for  a  kill  under  such  condi- 
tions would  be  merely  a  fluke.  The  rifleman 
therefore  sticks  to  the  trail  of  the  flock;  and  if  he 
be  game  enough  to  try  for  the  noblest  trophy,  he 
will  devote  his  closest  attention  to  the  biggest 
track.  It  is  the  mark  of  the  old  gobbler,  the  king 
of  the  lot,  and  —  the  hardest  to  get. 

He  is  the  strongest  and,  from  his  age  and  ex- 
perience, the  craftiest  of  them  all ;  and  the  man 
who  walks  him  down  will  surely  earn  his  prize. 
One  after  another  wearied  birds  slip  to  one  side, 
but  the  big  track  leads  on  through  the  roughest 
scrub  and  over  ridge  beyond  ridge.  The  man 
slips  after,  like  a  shadow  stealing  from  point  to 
point,  and  with  keen  eyes  ever  searching  the 
cover  ahead. 

After  perhaps  hours  of  cautious  trailing,  he  sud- 
denly sees  a  dark  object  zigzagging  between  the 
trunks,  then  another  and  another.  Perhaps  four 
or  five  turkeys  are  still  following  their  big  leader, 
and  most  likely  all  of  them  are  tired.  Now  comes 


The  IV M  Turkey  281 

the  test  of  the  man's  nerve  and  skill  with  the  rifle. 
The  turkeys  are  perfectly  aware  that  they  are  be- 
ing followed.  All  unknown  to  the  man,  they 
have  seen  him  half  a  dozen  times  during  the  long 
pursuit,  and  dark,  keen  eyes  are  watching  the 
back  track.  The  man  seems  to  drift  from  tree  to 
tree. 

Presently  a  turkey  mounts  a  snowy  log  and 
stands,  a  black,  sharply  defined  figure  of  alertness. 
The  man  halts  and  the  rifle  comes  to  the  ready. 
But  the  bird  in  sight  is  not  the  bird  —  it  is  only 
a  small  one.  Another  shows  and  then  another! 
They  seem  to  appear  in  some  marvellous  manner 
in  the  very  places  which  eager  eyes  have  just 
searched.  The  mystery  of  the  woods  is  in  these 
dark,  silent  shapes.  Still  the  man  waits  and  stares, 
though  the  water  is  in  his  eyes  and  a  muscle  in  a 
leg  is  cramping  stubbornly. 

At  last,  from  nowhere,  moves  a  black  mass  with 
nodding  head  and  snaky  neck,  and  it  halts  and 
stands  bolt  upright.  The  man  knows  right  well 
what  may  happen  within  one  minute.  A  sudden 
sprint,  a  clapping  of  mottled  wings,  a  crashing  of 

brittle  twigs,  and  perhaps  (?)  an  emphatic  " 

the  luck !  "  That  is  all. 

But  it  hasn't  happened  yet.  Deliberately 
prompt,  the  rifle  goes  to  the  shoulder ;  the  sights 
line  truly  on  the  long,  slim  neck,  —  or  the  centre 
of  the  big  body  if  it  must  be  so,  —  a  sharp  report 


282  The  Turkey  Family 

rips  the  solemn  silence  of  the  woods  —  and  then 
what  ?  It  depends.  If  the  man  behind  the  gun 
happens  to  be  one  of  Cooper's  marvel  manipu- 
lators, there  is  a  sudden  stiffening  of  a  grand 
bronze  body,  a  great  clashing  of  wings  as  its 
fellows  flee  in  terror,  and  a  spurt  of  steaming  life- 
blood  upon  the  virgin  snow.  When  the  tracker 
happens  to  be  an  ordinary  man  —  say  like  myself, 
or,  for  that  matter,  like  you  —  things  are  apt  to 
be  different,  although  in  part  similar.  There  will 
be  the  sudden  stiffening  of  a  grand  bronze  body, 
the  clashing  of  wings  as  its  fellows  flee,  then  a 
mightier  clashing  as  the  ought-to-be-dead  bronze 
body  chases  after  its  fellows,  and,  presumably  (?) 
in  lieu  of  the  spurt  of  blood,  there  will  be  a 
stream  of  steaming,  bright-blue  Saxon  speech 
from  about  where  the  tracks  and  empty  shell 
prove  that  somebody  stood  and  shot.  On  account 
of  these  little  technicalities,  I  seldom  hunt  turkeys 
with  the  rifle. 

But  with  the  gun  it  is  different,  and  while  I 
know  that  where  one  carries  a  gun  he  is  apt  to 
wish  he  had  a  rifle,  and  vice  versa,  I  greatly  prefer 
the  gun.  Most  of  my  trailing  has  been  done  in 
heavily  wooded  country,  having  here  and  there  a 
marshy  opening  with  big  clumps  of  tangled  brush, 
all  of  which  meant  flying  shots  at  comparatively 
short  range.  A  good  twelve-gauge,  plenty  of 
powder,  and  an  ounce  of  heavy  shot  should  stop 


The  Wild  Turkey  283 

a  running  or  flying  bird  as  far  as  it  can  be  clearly 
seen  in  such  cover,  or  in  any  ordinary  cover.  The 
gun  should  be  held  well  ahead.  A  single  large 
pellet  in  the  head  or  neck  should  mean  a  dead 
bird.  A  turkey,  though  hard  hit  farther  back, 
may  lead  one  an  exasperating  chase  before  being 
secured,  if  it  does  not  escape  outright.  A  broken 
wing  means  trouble.  A  winged  turkey,  having 
its  running  gear  still  in  good  order,  is  a  conun- 
drum not  half  solved.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to 
bustle  after  it  hotfoot,  and  shoot  at  every  glimpse 
of  the  fleeing  quarry.  This  method  rattles  the 
bird,  and  prevents  it  from  selecting  some  secure 
hiding-place.  Once  get  him  confused,  and  he  is 
as  apt  to  dodge  into  danger  as  away  from  it. 

Of  course,  on  tracking  snow,  the  trail  may  be 
followed ;  but,  if  given  time,  a  turkey  will  work  its 
way  into  the  most  baffling  cover  and,  once  there, 
manoeuvre  maybe  for  hours.  I  once  winged  a 
fine  gobbler  about  mid-afternoon,  and,  after  refus- 
ing one  doubtful  opportunity,  chased  that  infernal 
fowl  until  dark,  and  not  only  failed  to  secure  it, 
but  got  myself  so  mixed  up  that  only  the  distant 
whistle  of  a  railroad  engine  gave  me  a  line  on 
civilization,  and  saved  me  from  sleeping  out  in 
the  cold  and  grubless  whence. 

After  one  has  emptied  both  barrels  at  a  flying 
turkey,  it  is  a  safe  rule  to  follow  that  particular 
bird,  at  least  until  its  new  track  has  been  discov- 


284  The  Turkey  Family 

ered  and  followed  sufficiently  far  to  warrant  the 
belief  -that  no  shot  took  effect.  By  neglecting  to 
do  this  I  once  lost  one  of  the  finest  gobblers  ever 
flushed.  A  farmer  happened  to  see  this  bird  go 
down  some  hundreds  of  yards  from  where  it  was 
shot  at;  he  retrieved  it,  and  told  me  all  about 
it  —  six  months  later ! 

A  glance  at  a  recent  hunt  may  serve  as  an 
illustration  of  the  ups  and  downs  and  the  glorious 
uncertainty  of  turkey  trailing. 

Morning  broke  with  a  golden  radiance  which 
made  one  feel  that  it  was  good  to  be  alive.  A 
new  white  mantle  had  been  spread  over  the  brown 
shoulders  of  Mother  Earth,  and  all  her  trees  were 
gay  with  diamond  powder  and  feathery  trimming. 
For  a  week  sharp  frosts  had  prevailed,  and  Winter 
had  set  his  iron  grip  upon  all  but  steeply  slanting 
water.  The  previous  afternoon  I  had  travelled 
to  the  small  village  in  the  woods.  Twelve  hours 
before  a  gray  sky  had  warned  me,  the  message 
had  been  wired,  and  my  short  trip  had  ended  amid 
the  last  scattering  flakes  of  the  promised  snowfall. 

True  to  previous  arrangement,  "  Joe  "  had  me 
out  in  a  vaguely  gray  light  which  he  called  morn- 
ing. Everything  looked  favorable,  and  within  an 
hour  we  had  entered  the  woods. 

"  It's  three  miles,"  said  Joe,  tersely,  as  he  started 
his  long,  lean  legs  upon  a  route  which  might  end 
the  Lord  knew  where.  As  I  knew  my  man,  no 


The  WU  Turkey  285 

comment  was  necessary.  That  a  hard  day  was 
to  come  was  a  certainty  —  just  how  hard  would 
depend  upon  the  luck.  When  Joe  got  started  he 
kept  on  until  night  or  turkey  fell.  He  strode 
straight  ahead,  and  he  had  me  glowing  before  his 
first  halt. 

"  Thar's  their  range,"  he  remarked,  as  his  hand 
described  a  sweeping  semicircle.  Before  us 
spread  a  huge  opening  —  in  summer  a  marsh  with 
stretches  of  open  water  and  big  clumps  of  tall 
rushes,  in  winter  a  plain  of  white  with  a  soft 
mound  here  and  there  to  indicate  where  the  snow- 
buried  rushes  stood.  Wise  people  kept  away 
from  those  mounds  for  reasons  good  —  elsewhere 
the  ice  was  strong  and  safe.  Around  it  all  stood 
the  silent,  unbroken  forest,  huge  halted  billows  of 
bluish  gray  crowned  with  a  songless  surf  of  glis- 
tening snow. 

"  Let's  ring  it,"  said  Joe,  and  away  he  went. 

Now  "ringing"  it  sounded  easy,  but  it  wasn't. 
It  meant  the  chasing  of  an  iron  man  who  had  no 
soul  through  apparently  limitless  woods,  in  and 
out  of  doubtful  hollows,  and  over  snow-burdened 
logs,  till  you  were  snow  from  heels  to  fork,  and 
miles  of  this  with  no  let-up.  It  meant  raising  the 
leading  foot  very  high  over  a  big  log  and  twisting 
after  it  on  the  seat  of  one's  corduroys,  and  mean- 
while finding  that  certain  muscles  had  not  been 
used  that  way  for  a  long,  long  time.  It  also 


286  The  Turkey  Family 

meant  plenty  of  muttered  remarks  which  would 
melt  snow  if  all  applied  to  one  spot. 

But  at  last,  mercifully,  a  change  came.  The 
old  boy  pulled  up  and  pointed  at  the  snow.  A 
line  of  tracks,  so  fresh  that  the  disturbed  snow 
was  just  settling,  told  the  glad  tidings.  Four  or 
five  turkeys  were  only  a  short  distance  away; 
evidently,  from  the  trend  of  the  trail,  in  a  long 
snarl  of  thicket  which  bounded  all  one  side  of  the 
open. 

Now  began  the  trailing  in  earnest.  Twenty 
yards  apart,  we  stole  forward,  Joe  on  the  trail, 
with  me  steering  by  his  course.  For  an  hour  we 
drifted  ahead,  silent,  ever  ready,  while  eyes  strove 
to  bore  holes  in  the  shadows  under  every  log  and 
laden  shrub.  A  red  squirrel  came  out  of  his  nest, 
and  the  soft  "prut"  of  the  falling  snow  he  dis- 
lodged almost  gave  me  heart-disease.  Farther 
on,  a  wad  of  snow  fell  through  some  dry  leaves, 
and  the  rustle  of  it  nearly  caused  the  pinching 
flat  of  the  gun-barrels  in  one  fierce  grip. 

We  went  on,  and  continued  going  on.  So  did 
the  turkeys,  at  least  the  tracks  said  they  did. 

At  half-past  two  Joe  halted,  pushed  up  his  cap, 
and  spat  out  a  much-chewed  cud.  Then  he 
passed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  mouth 
and  stared  sorrowfully  at  me.  I,  too,  pushed 
back  my  cap,  and  as  I  did  so  a  puff  of  steam 
rose  from  it. 


The  Wild  Turkey  287 

"What  time  do  you  think  it  is?"  I  asked, 
merely  to  learn  how  close  he  could  guess,  for  I 
had  just  looked  at  the  ticker. 

"  Gone  two,  I  reckon ;  we'd  best  eat,"  he  replied, 
and  I  marvelled. 

We  did  eat,  and  Joe  warmed  up,  for  he  had  got 
what  he  wanted,  though  from  a  very  small  flask. 
We  had  brushed  away  some  snow  from  a  log  and 
sat  facing,  and  as  he  handed  back  the  flask  he 
suddenly  stiffened  and  a  gleam  of  excitement 
flamed  in  his  steady  eyes.  He  was  staring  over 
my  head,  and  he  evidently  saw  something,  for  his 
hands  closed  upon  the  rifle  across  his  knees.  I 
knew  better  than  to  move  a  hair,  or  ask  fool 
questions,  but  as  his  eyes  sought  mine  they  asked 
a  question  to  which  I  winked  "  all  right."  Slowly 
the  rifle  rose  to  the  level  till  I  could  see  into  the 
muzzle.  Few  indeed  are  the  men  I  would  trust 
to  that  extent,  for  the  piece  was  cocked,  and  a 
premature  discharge  assuredly  would  have  blown 
my  head  off.  But  I  knew  my  man  this  time.  As 
slowly  as  the  rifle  had  moved,  my  head  bent 
forward  till  my  nose  was  about  level  with  my 
belt,  and  I  heard  a  whispered  "  All  right." 

How  long  he  took  to  get  the  old  gas-pipe 
where  he  wanted  it  I  can  only  surmise ;  it  seemed 
like  time  for  spring  ploughing  before  he  pulled. 
There  was  an  astounding  jar,  a  small  but  in- 
tensely lively  spark  sped  down  along  my  spine, 


288  The  Turkey  Family 

then  something  fell  over  me,  trampled  me  flat, 
and  went  yelling  into  the  woods.  By  the  time  I 
had  picked  myself  up,  a  raving  maniac  was  whirl- 
ing something  black  around  his  head  and  shed- 
ding turkey  feathers  with  every  turn.  It  was  a 
big,  fat  hen,  which,  coming  from  the  unknown, 
had  chanced  to  alight  in  a  tree  not  fifty  yards 
behind  my  back.  We  tramped  on,  feeling  better, 
for  it  was  a  fine  bird. 

"  What  ye  think  ? "  he  asked  two  hours  later, 
when  the  shadows  had  begun  to  pile  in  the 
thickets.  My  answer  must  have  surprised  him. 

We  were  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  marsh, 
and  we  were  both  pretty  well  cooked.  It  had 
been  a  hard  day,  and  only  the  one  bit  of  luck  had 
come  our  way.  We  both  wanted  to  get  home 
that  night,  but  Joe,  good  fellow  as  he  always  was, 
had  volunteered  to  try  again  next  day  if  I  so 
desired.  As  he  spoke,  I  was  looking  rather  rue- 
fully down  the  long  stretch  of  frozen  marsh.  We 
were  almost  at  the  point  where  the  hunt  had 
begun,  and  with  the  light  failing  it  was  useless 
to  think  of  further  work  in  the  woods. 

Without  a  word  in  response  to  his  question,  I 
made  a  leap  upon  the  snowy  ice  and  ran  like  a 
"quarter  horse"  across  the  open.  The  footing 
was  fairly  good,  and  I  trusted  to  luck  that  the 
ice  was  strong,  for  I  was  pounding  it  hard.  Out 
of  the  tail  of  one  eye  I  kept  tabs  on  a  moving 


Tbe  Wild  Turkey  289 

black  object,  a  something  I  had  seen  fly  into  the 
open  a  good  four  hundred  yards  away. 

Joe's  quick  grasp  of  things  proved  invaluable. 
One  sweeping  glance  had  told  him  what  was  up, 
and  now  he  was  coaching  like  the  passed  master 
he  was. 

"  Run,  gol-darn  ye,  run  /  I'll  tell  ye  when  to 
stop ! "  he  roared,  and  I  heard  and  sprinted  for 
dear  life. 

"  Whoa !  Yer  fur— miff— rite  —  top  —  ye!  "he 
howled,  in  an  agony  of  excitement,  and  I  stiffened 
my  legs  and  slid,  ploughing  snow  for  ten  feet. 

Puffing,  twitching  all  over,  I  turned  my  head. 
Joe  had  timed  it  marvellously  well.  Barely  twenty 
yards  away  was  a  noble  gobbler,  just  stretching 
his  long  red  legs  to  alight.  I  saw  the  huge 
speckled  fans  working  convulsively,  the  gleam  of 
the  bronze,  the  drooping  tassel,  the  snaky  neck, 
and  all.  I  should  have  taken  my  time,  let  him 
get  running  smoothly,  and  then  cut  the  head  off 
him  as  he  ran. 

I  didn't.  I  just  gave  it  to  him  midships,  rat- 
tled in  the  second  barrel,  then  ran  and  sat  on 
him  as  hard  as  I  could,  and  wished  it  was  twice 
as  hard  —  that's  what  I  did  ! 

As  it  happened  I  had  hit  him  in  the  head,  but 
it  wasn't  my  fault !  The  second  barrel  scored 
him  promiscuously ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  storm  of 
big  shot,  he  was  a  truly  grand  bird. 


290  The  Turkey  Family 

When  I  dared  get  off  him,  I  said  he  weighed 
twenty  pounds.  Joe  said  twenty-five.  Before  I 
had  packed  him  a  mile  I  s 


Upon  another  occasion  I  went  into  the  same 
woods  alone.  Fate  was  busy  that  day.  At  the 
very  first  bit  of  marsh,  before  even  a  fresh  track 
was  expected,  a  big  turkey  came  flying  directly 
toward  me.  I  chanced  to  see  him  when  he  rose 
a  long  way  off,  and  there  was  no  need  to  stir  a 
foot.  It  was  the  easiest  and  most  perfect  chance 
ever  I  had.  He  was  up  perhaps  thirty  yards,  and 
his  line  of  flight  would  have  carried  him  exactly 
over  my  head.  The  picture  he  made  will  never 
be  forgotten.  Full  in  the  dazzling  sunshine  he 
came,  a  perfect  glory  of  gold  and  bronze  and  pur- 
ple. He  was  magnificent  as  he  bore  down  on 
the  foe  that  he  never  saw.  For  a  moment  I 
thought  of  dropping  the  gun,  waiting,  and  grab- 
bing him  by  neck  or  leg  —  I  have  always  re- 
gretted that  I  did  not  try  it.  The  catch  would 
indeed  have  been  a  unique  experience,  and  I 
firmly  believe  it  could  have  been  accomplished. 
Instead,  I  cut  his  head  off  at  about  ten  yards' 
range,  and  to  do  it  cleanly  I  had  to  shift  ground. 
He  fell  almost  in  my  tracks,  where  I  had  stood. 

Presently  came  a  stoutish,  country-looking 
fellow  and  a  younger  chap,  following  the  bird. 
They  made  no  claim,  but  greatly  admired  the 


The  Wild  Turkey  291 

gobbler.  A  claim  would  have  been  useless, 
for  I  had  heard  no  shot  and  the  prize  gave  no 
sign  of  having  been  wounded.  The  larger  of  the 
two  strangers  said  he  had  often  heard  of  me,  and 
would  like  to  join  me  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day.  What  to  do  with  the  gobbler  was  the  prob- 
lem. Finally,  the  younger  brother  offered  to  carry 
in  the  turkey  and  have  it  ready  at  the  depot 
when  I  got  back.  This  was  an  easy  solution  of 
the  trouble,  so  I  promptly  agreed,  adding  that  it 
was  a  pity  to  spoil  his  day. 

"Oh!  that  don't  matter.  I'm  satisfied,"  he 
replied. 

He  was  too!  I  hunted  with  the  brother  all 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  we 
got  a  chance  and  dropped  a  couple  of  small  young 
hens.  We  might  have  got  more,  but  I  had  a  most 
important  engagement  for  the  following  morning, 
and  there  was  only  one  train  to  my  destination. 

"  I  won't  disturb  'em  for  two  days,  if  you'll  come 
back ;  I  like  to  hunt  with  you,"  said  my  bucolic 
friend.  There  and  then  I  promised  to  return, 
and  we  set  out  best  foot  foremost  for  the  depot. 
We  made  it  by  a  narrow  margin,  and  lo  !  there 
was  neither  boy  nor  gobbler. 

"  I'll  go  get  it  and  be  back  in  time ;  he's  taken 
it  to  the  house,"  said  my  new  friend,  as  he  darted 
away. 

"  This  is  a  rum  go ! "  I  viciously  exclaimed  as 


292  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

the  whistle  of  the  approaching  train  sounded. 
However,  there  was  the  train,  and  I  had  to  take 
it,  so  I  placed  my  gun  in  a  seat  and  returned  to 
the  platform,  hoping  against  hope.  The  wheels 
began  to  turn,  and  still  no  sign  of  the  turkey 
or  either  party  to  what  was  now  easily  recogniz- 
able as  a  steal.  I  was  hot  clear  through,  and  was 
just  on  the  point  of  jumping  off  and  hunting  satis- 
faction, when  through  the  dusk  I  saw  a  running 
figure  carrying  a  turkey  and  making  for  the  cross- 
ing some  distance  ahead. 

"  Bright  fellow,  that ;  he's  been  delayed  a  bit 
and  has  taken  the  one  chance  left,"  was  my 
thought  as  I  twisted  a  leg  through  the  railing, 
for  one  had  best  be  secure  even  on  a  slowly  mov- 
ing train.  He  had  his  eye  on  me  and  he  timed 
himself  to  a  hair.  As  the  train  slid  past,  gain- 
ing speed  every  instant,  he  swung  the  turkey  and 
let  it  go.  It  came  into  my  face  like  a  cannon- 
ball  inside  of  a  feather  pillow,  and  had  I  not  been 
firmly  fixed,  it  might  have  knocked  me  clear 
across  the  platform.  However,  it  was  securely 
held,  and  I  took  it  inside,  intending  to  gloat  over 
it  all  the  way  home. 

Somehow  it  felt  very  stiff  and  hard.  Under 
the  lights,  while  the  train  was  running  twenty- 
five  miles  an  hour,  it  turned  out  to  be  a  tame 
bird  that  had  been  dead  and  frozen  for  about  a 
week!  The  whole  game  was  at  once  apparent. 


The  Wild  Turkey  293 

The  request  to  stay  over  had  merely  been  a 
feeler  to  make  sure  I  would  go ;  the  brother  had 
merely  played  that  role  and  had  taken  my  bird  to 
the  house  where  they  were  temporarily  quartered  ; 
had  I  stayed,  the  right  bird  would,  of  course, 
have  been  produced.  As  it  was,  I  got  a 
ten-shilling  fowl  for  a  gobbler  which  I  later 
heard  brought  fifteen  dollars  in  Detroit,  where 
my  enterprising  friends  then  belonged,  the  elder 
being  a  market  hunter. 

That  happened  quite  a  few  years  ago,  but  if 
ever  I  chance  to  be  on  a  jury,  and  either  of  those 
rascals  is  charged  with  the  theft  of  a  Turkey  rug, 
—  nay,  even  a  Turkish  cigarette,  —  I'll  hold  out 
for  a  life  [sentence  at  least. 

An  illustration  of  the  possibilities  of  shooting 
from  ambush  may  serve  as  a  parting  shot  at  the 
turkey.  I  had  gone  to  the  Essex  woods  (in 
Ontario),  expecting  good  tracking.  Things,  how- 
ever, were  all  askew.  The  unreliable  climate  had 
taken  one  of  its  peculiar  notions,  and  the  low- 
lying  woods  were  deeply  flooded  and  the  snow  en- 
tirely gone.  My  host,  a  weather-wise  old  farmer, 
urged  me  to  have  patience  and  stay  with  him,  as 
a  cold  snap  was  bound  to  come.  It  did,  that  very 
night,  and  next  day  all  surface  water  was  frozen, 
but  not  enough  to  bear  a  man.  Hunting  was  out 
of  the  question  until  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  came, 


294  Tbe  Turkey  Family 

for  walking  in  the  woods  was  like  stepping  on 
splintering  glass.  After  a  bitter  day,  followed  by 
a  colder  night,  the  ice  was  strong  everywhere ;  but 
there  was  no  tracking,  and  the  woods  were  yet 
noisy.  That  night  a  young  fellow  called  and  told 
about  a  flock  of  turkeys  which  had  been  feeding 
for  days  on  shelled  corn,  which  had  fallen  from 
some  car,  and  formed  a  heavy  trail  of  grain  for 
nearly  three-fourths  of  a  mile.  The  birds,  he  said, 
had  found  it,  and  for  several  days  had  come  out 
to  feed  about  three  o'clock. 

"  Go  down  there  to-morrow,"  said  my  host ; 
"there's  a  big  culvert  will  hide  you,  and  if  you 
take  both  rifle  and  gun,  you'll  be  sure  of  one 
chance  anyway." 

Things  dragged  slowly  about  the  house,  and  as 
my  host  was  clearly  worrying  about  the  lack  of 
sport,  I  decided  to  go.  Shortly  after  noon  I 
started.  The  trail  of  corn  was  easily  found,  and 
the  sign  indicated  at  least  a  fair  flock  of  turkeys. 
But  the  conditions  were  rather  awkward.  Upon 
either  side  of  the  single  track  spread  a  sea  of  ice 
which  extended  far  into  the  woods.  The  big  cul- 
vert was  filled  to  within  a  couple  of  feet  of  the  top, 
which  meant  nearly  six  feet  of  water,  and  this  ap- 
peared to  be  the  only  available  hide.  I  did  not 
greatly  fancy  it,  but  after  a  thorough  test  of  the 
ice  decided  to  try  it.  To  collect  a  couple  of  bits 
of  fence-rail  and  a  big  armful  of  dry  weeds  was 


The  Wild  Turkey  295 

the  work  of  a  few  minutes,  and  these  formed  a 
very  comfortable  seat.  With  gun  and  rifle  con- 
veniently placed,  matters  looked  brighter,  so  I  sat 
down  and  began  the  lonely  vigil. 

Crouching  in  a  culvert,  with  one's  eyes  on  the 
level  of  an  air-line  roadbed,  is  not  very  interesting, 
but  when  you  can  smoke,  it  is  not  unendurably 
bad.  My  old  farmer  was  a  true  prophet,  too,  for 
in  less  than  half  an  hour,  behold !  a  turkey  on  the 
track  some  four  hundred  yards  away.  Others 
presently  followed  the  first,  and  I  could  see  the 
lot  rapidly  feeding  in  my  direction.  At  once  the 
prospect  was  glorified,  —  the  old  farmer  was  a 
trump,  his  friend  was  another;  and  I  —  well,  I  was 
the  two  bowers,  the  joker,  and  the  four  aces  all  in 
one  hand.  It  was  the  surest  thing  ever  tackled, 
and  I  grinned  over  the  idea  of  letting  them  feed 
right  up,  getting  one  with  the  rifle,  and  then,  hey  ! 
for  a  lightning  change,  and  one  more,  maybe  two, 
with  the  gun. 

Things  are  not  always  what  they  seem,  and  best- 
laid  plans  sometimes  are  drawn  for  buildings  to 
go  on  property  to  which  the  title  is  not  clear.  As 
I  gloated,  to  my  horror  there  sounded  an  ominous 
click,  that  unerring  indication  of  a  coming  train. 
There  came  the  remembrance  of  the  fact  that  while 
there  could  be  no  passenger  train,  a  freight  was 
liable  to  come  along  any  time.  The  old  farmer 
had  forgotten  this,  while  I  had  never  thought  of 


296  The  Turkey  Family 

it.  It  was  coming,  and  fast  too,  and  I  was  in  a 
stew  of  anxiety.  Pretty  soon  the  turkeys  took 
heed  of  the  clicking  rail,  and  one  after  the  other 
they  trotted  into  the  woods.  Then  I  saw  light. 
Of  course  they  were  accustomed  to  trains,  so  all 
I  had  to  do  was  to  lie  flat  under  the  cross-beam 
until  the  train  had  passed  over  me.  It  might 
be  a  bit  unpleasant  for  a  moment,  but  I  would  be 
absolutely  safe.  To  leave  the  ambush  would  be 
folly,  for  it  could  not  be  done  without  exposing 
myself  to  the  turkeys,  and  I  knew  better  than  to 
do  that. 

Long  before  the  train  got  near  me  I  was  down 
flat,  and  feeling  content,  for  the  turkeys  would 
surely  come  back  as  soon  as  quiet  was  restored. 
In  fact,  it  was  better  to  have  the  train  come 
exactly  when  it  did,  for  it  added  a  spice  of  adven- 
ture, and  there  would  be  no  other  train  before 
dark.  I  was  feeling  glad  that  I,  the  turkeys,  and 
the  train  had  all  come,  when,  with  an  utterly  in- 
describable roar,  and  a  soul-scaring  vibration,  the 
engine  passed  over  —  just  over!  —  my  head.  A 
man  must  try  it  to  understand  what  it  is  like,  and 
anybody  is  welcome  to  my  future  shares  of  it. 

After  the  last  demoniacal  truck  had  cleared, 
and  the  gravel  had  ceased  pelting,  I  began  to  sit 
up  and  take  notice,  and  things  gradually  straight- 
ened themselves  out.  There  had  been  no  acci- 
dent, no  earthquake,  no  disturbance  of  any  kind, 


The  Wild  Turkey  297 

and  the  track  was  intact.  I  was  glad  of  that,  for 
there  had  been  doubts  upon  several  points. 

Almost  before  I  was  ready,  certainly  before 
they  were  expected,  back  came  the  turkeys. 
Luck  had  indeed  turned,  for  the  nearest  pair 
flew  back  and  pitched  less  than  two  hundred 
yards  away.  These  must  have  lit  upon  a  spot 
from  which  the  corn  had  previously  been  gleaned, 
for  they  actually  ran  in  my  direction,  and  what  is 
more,  the  rest  came  chasing  after  them.  Such 
luck  was  simply  overpowering  and  almost  awful 
to  contemplate. 

What !  A  single  turkey  out  of  a  layout  like 
that!  Nay,  nay!  Not  to  take  full  advantage  would 
be  like  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence.  I'd  get 
two  in  line  and  have  both  at  once  with  the  rifle, 
then  grab  the  gun  and  drop  a  couple  more,  maybe 
three  if  they  bunched  well.  Nearer  and  nearer 
they  came,  till  they  were  at  the  next  telegraph 
pole  below  the  one  opposite  the  culvert.  It  was 
great !  An  open  chance  like  this  is  good  enough, 
but  to  shoot  from  a  dead  rest  off  the  edge  of  a  cul- 
vert at  two  turkeys  in  line  is  a  "  cinch  " ;  but  to 
have  a  telegraph  pole  by  which  to  gauge  the  exact 
distance  is  almost  too  much. 

Two  turkeys!  Fiddle-dee-dee-dee!  I'd  let 
'em  come  within  thirty  yards,  get  three  in  line, 
tunnel  through  the  lot;  then  for  the  gun,  and 
why  not  two  to  each  barrel.  Good  old  Caution 


298  The  Turkey  Family 

whispered  once  in  her  feeble,  pleading  way,  "  Best 
tumble  that  big  fellow,  he's  near  enough;  then 
rake  'em  with  the  gun,  for  they'll  huddle  when 
they  hear  the  shot." 

Not  at  all !  Caution  is  such  a  coward.  A 
game  man  never  fears  —  possibly  what  he  don't 
know  about.  There  was  a  grinding  squeak,  a 
heave  as  though  some  big  sleeping  animal  were 
stirring  under  me  —  then  I  gave  an  imitation  of 
a  young  man  falling  through  a  skylight  and  fetch- 
ing up  in  the  well ! 

To  say  there  was  pawing  and  at  least  one  war- 
whoop  would  be  feeble.  The  ice  could  not  have 
been  resting  on  the  water,  and  presumably  the 
weight  of  the  guns  and  myself,  helped  by  the  vibra- 
tion of  the  train,  had  proved  too  much.  It  was 
cold  down  in  there  too,  but  as  I  was  in,  there  was 
no  use  in  leaving  good  weapons  behind.  What 
felt  like  a  long  winter  of  pawing  finally  brought 
up  everything,  and  I  ran  for  it. 

What  about  the  turkeys,  do  you  ask  ? 

Reader,  I  solemnly  swear  to  you  that  the  only 
decent  turkey  is  a  hot  turkey.  Cold  turkey  is  a 
horror,  unfit  for  publication  or  further  discussion. 

THE    FLORIDA    WILD   TURKEY 
(M.  s.  osceola) 

Any  one  but  an  experienced  naturalist  would 
find  it  difficult  to  distinguish  this  from  the  pre- 


Tbe  Mexican  Turkey 


299 


ceding  race.  Even  the  scientist  can  only  point 
to  the  general  much  darker  cast  of  plumage,  and 
the  fact  that  the  white  bars  upon  the  primaries 
are  narrower  and  more  broken,  and  not  reaching 
the  shaft  of  the  feather,  as  in  Meleagris  sylvestris. 
The  size,  eggs,  and  habits  are  about  the  same. 
The  race  is  confined  to  Florida.  Having  no  seri- 
ous grudge  against  my  reader,  and  not  being 
anxious  to  inspire  a  wish  that  my  bars  were  better 
defined,  and  that  I  were  confined  to  a  range  nar- 
rower than  Florida,  there  appears  to  be  no  pressing 
necessity  for  dwelling  further  upon  this  race. 

ELLIOT'S  RIO  GRANDE  TURKEY 

(M.  s.  ellioti) 

Confined  to  the  wooded  lowlands  of  eastern 
Mexico  and  southern  Texas,  this  handsome  bird 
is  rightly  considered  a  distinct  race.  The  adult 
male,  while  in  general  appearance  resembling 
M.  sylvestris,  has  the  back  and  rump  jet  black,  and 
the  upper  tail-coverts  broadly  tipped  with  buff. 
The  adult  female  is  smaller  than  the  male ;  gen- 
eral hue,  black,  with  much  metallic  lustre ; 
feathers  of  upper  parts,  tipped  with  gray,  while 
those  of  the  lower  parts  are  tipped  with  buff. 

THE   MEXICAN   TURKEY 
(Meleagris  gallopavd) 

This  fine  species,  while  not  so  handsome  as 
M.  sylvestriS)  usually  averages  a  trifle  larger.  Its 


300  The  Turkey  Family 

distinguishing  mark  is  its  conspicuous,  whitish 
gray  rump,  which  might  be  exactly  matched  in 
many  a  barnyard  of  this  country  and  Europe. 
Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  for  from  the  Mexi- 
can turkey  of  older  days  came  the  domestic  bird. 
While  its  general  habits  closely  resemble  those 
of  our  better-known  race,  it  prefers  higher  alti- 
tudes, being  found  on  the  table-lands  and  moun- 
tains at  an  elevation  varying  from  about  three  to 
ten  thousand  feet.  The  love-making,  nesting,  and 
behavior  of  the  males  need  not  be  dwelt  upon, 
as  what  has  been  said  about  M.  sylvestris,  male 
and  female,  will  apply  equally  as  well  to  this 
species.  But  bad  husband  and  worse  father  that 
he  is,  we  surely  can  forgive  this  bird  his  tres- 
passes !  Who  are  we,  that,  while  bowing  our 
thankful  heads  about  the  polished  bier  of  his 
many  times  great-grandson,  we  should  remember 
only  his  peccadilloes  and  forget  the  aching  voids 
which  he  and  his  sons  —  more  power  to  'em  — 
have  so  acceptably  filled.  Nay!  even  overfilled, 
as  the  soda  might  attest. 

The  range  of  the  Mexican  turkey  includes 
southern  and  western  Texas,  New  Mexico,  Ari- 
zona, and  the  table-lands  of  Mexico. 

The  exact  date  of  the  introduction  of  this  bird 
into  Europe  is  unfortunately  unknown.  The 
credit  of  having  taken  it  to  the  West  Indies  isl- 
ands probably  belongs  to  the  Spaniards,  who 


were 


Tbe  Mexican  Turkey  301 


were  then  great  sailors  and  traders.  Soon  after 
the  big  birds  made  their  first  appearance  in  Eu- 
rope, attracting  great  attention  in  both  France 
and  England.  An  old  rhyme  says:  — 

"  Turkeys,  carps,  hoppes,  pinaret  and  bear, 
Came  into  England  all  in  one  year." 

This  year  is  said  to  have  been  1524.  Hakluyt, 
writing  in  1582,  mentions  "turkey  cocks  and 
hennes "  as  having  been  brought  from  foreign 
parts  "  about  fifty  years  past."  Why  the  fowl 
were  called  turkeys  is  unknown,  the  supposed  ori- 
gin of  the  name  being  the  old-time  belief  that  the 
birds  came  from  Turkey.  It  appears  to  have 
been  the  fashion  in  those  days  to  say  that  every 
imported  novelty  came  from  that  country.  The 
habit  of  crediting  weird  things  to  Turkey  still 
prevails  among  certain  vendors  of  tobacco,  in  cig- 
arette and  other  forms.  In  1541  the  turkey  is 
mentioned  in  a  constitution  of  Archbishop  Cran- 
mer,  by  which  it  was  ordered,  that  of  such  large 
fowls  as  cranes,  swans,  and  turkey-cocks,  "  there 
should  be  but  one  in  a  dish."  The  sergeants- 
at-law,  created  in  1555,  provided,  according  to 
Dugdale,  in  his  Origines  Juridicales,  for  their 
inauguration  dinner,  among  other  delicacies,  two 
turkeys,  and  four  turkey-chicks.  These  were 
rated  at  only  four  shillings  each,  while  swans  and 
cranes  were  ten  shillings,  and  capons  half-a-crown 


302  The  Turkey  Family 

which  would  suggest  that  turkeys  were  then 
rather  common.  In  1573  they  were  spoken  of  as 
part  of  the  usual  Christmas  fare  at  a  farmer's 
table.  In  1535  turkeys  were  known  in  France, 
and  mentioned  by  writers  as  having  been  brought 
there  a  few  years  previously  from  the  newly  dis- 
covered Indian  islands.  In  1566  a  present  of 
twelve  turkeys  was  made  by  the  municipality  of 
Amiens  to  their  king.  They  are  said  to  have 
been  known  in  Germany  about  1530.  In  Venice, 
a  law  made  in  1557  specified  the  tables  at  which 
they  were  permitted  to  be  served. 


A  WOODLAND    HERMIT 
(The  Woodcock) 


THE   AMERICAN   WOODCOCK 

(Philohela  minor) 

Adult  male  —  Forehead,  line  over  the  eye,  and  entire  lower  parts; 
reddish  tawny ;  between  eye  and  bill  an  irregular,  narrow  line 
of  umber;  top  of  head,  black,  crossed  with  three  narrow 
bands  of  pale  buff;  eye,  large,  set  far  back  and  high  in  skull; 
cheeks,  marked  with  a  blackish  line;  sides  of  neck,  tinged 
with  ash ;  primaries  and  secondaries,  sooty  black ;  rest  of 
upper  parts,  beautifully  variegated  with  brown,  black,  tawny, 
and  gray;  tail,  black,  the  outer  edge  of  the  feathers  spotted 
with  brown ;  tips  of  tail-feathers,  buffish  above,  white  below ; 
inside  of  wings,  reddish  tawny ;  legs,  short,  flesh  color ;  weight, 
from  five  to  six  ounces.  Total  length,  io£  inches ;  bill,  about 
2|  inches,  brownish  flesh  color,  darkening  to  black  at  tip, 
upper  mandible  broadening  at  tip  and  slightly  longer  than 
the  lower. 

Adult  female  —  In  general  appearance  like  the  male,  but  consider- 
ably larger  and  having  all  conspicuous  markings  somewhat 
paler;  average  length,  about  12  inches;  bill,  about  3  inches; 
weight,  from  seven  to  eight  ounces.  Downy  young,  creamy 
buff,  striped  and  mottled  above  with  deep  brown.  Range, 
eastern  United  States;  north,  to  Canadian  provinces;  west, 
to  Dakota,  Kansas,  etc. 

This  peculiar  and  rightly  highly  prized  bird 
is,  perhaps,  the  least  understood  of  all  American 
feathered  game.  While  most  sportsmen  would 
esteem  a  really  good  day's  cock-shooting  an  ex- 

303 


3 04  The  American  Woodcock 

perience  to  be  talked  of  for  years  afterward,  and 
a  half-dozen  brace  of  birds  a  present  fit  for  the 
highest  in  the  land,  yet  comparatively  few  of 
them  know  much  about  the  cock,  except  during 
the  open  season. 

I  gravely  suspect  that  there  has  been  more 
nonsense  written  about  the  life,  food,  and  habits 
of  this  bird  than  about  any  other  American 
game,  not  even  excepting  the  Carolina  rail, 
or  sora,  Porzana  Carolina.  Had  I  chanced 
to  have  kept  a  record  of  all  questions  concern- 
ing feathered  game,  probably  one-half  of  them 
would  have  been  about  the  woodcock,  for  to 
most  men  he  is  indeed  a  bird  of  mystery. 
Those  who  have  followed  him  only  to  his  sum- 
mer haunts  might  even  question  his  right  to  a 
place  among  upland  game.  To  them  he  is 
a  bird  of  wet  woodlands,  of  the  rich  mud  of 
creek  beds  and  borders,  of  the  swale  and  the 
morass.  Those  who  have  sweated  through 
blazing  summer  days,  have  floundered  amid 
the  black,  boggy  tenacity  of  the  lowlands,  have 
fought  brush  and  mosquitoes  and  breathed 
miasmatic  vapors  throughout  the  long  agony 
of  a  July  or  August  campaign,  know  little  of 
the  real  pleasure  of  cock-shooting. 

During  the  heated  term,  the  bird  of  mystery 
certainly  haunts  just  such  places,  and  those 
who  must  hunt  will  find  him  therein.  They 


The  American  Woodcock 


305 


also  will,  if  they  be  stanch  workers,  get  home 
at  night  sweat  to  the  crown  and  mud  to  the 
fork,  and,  possibly,  bearing  with  them  a  brace 
or  so  of  cock,  a  fair  sample  of  headache,  and  a 
temper  of  from  one-quarter  to  three-eighths  of  an 
inch  long. 

Summer  cock-shooting  is  a  very  weak  imita- 
tion of  genuine  sport.  The  birds  then  are  in 
poor  condition  —  moulting  flutterers,  merely  able 
to  weave  a  batlike  flight  through  a  tangle  of 
sun-parched  foliage.  Very  often,  too,  the  man 
who  is  early  afield,  to  avoid  the  full  heat  of 
the  day,  kills  a  few  brace  before  mid-morning 
only  to  have  them  spoil  on  his  hands  before 
he  can  get  them  home.  But  in  the  autumn 
it  is  very  different.  Then  the  game  forsakes 
his  beloved  mud  and  takes  to  the  uplands,  to 
the  big  fields  of  standing  corn  and  the  dry 
thickets,  and  there  he  may  be  found  in  all  his 
glory,  fat,  strong,  beautiful  —  in  fine,  what  he 
should  be  when  a  sportsman  draws  trigger  on 
him. 

The  bird  of  mystery,  the  big-eyed  king  of  the 
copse,  must  be  followed  from  South  to  North  and 
back  again  before  his  seemingly  bafHing  move- 
ments are  revealed  in  their  real  simplicity.  In 
the  first  place,  he  comes  North  very  early,  fre- 
quently before  the  snow  has  entirely  gone.  I 
have  found  birds  (in  Ontario)  in  southerly  ex- 


306  The  American  Woodcock 

posed  thickets  while  the  remains  of  snowdrifts 
yet  occupied  many  of  the  northerly  slopes.  An 
old  field-book  shows  that  the  first  cock  of  one 
year  was  seen  on  the  6th  of  March,  and  an 
entry  two  years  later  mentions  a  bird  on  the 
8th  of  that  month.  These  early  birds  come 
North  either  during,  or  immediately  after,  a 
spell  of  mild  weather,  and,  not  infrequently,  too 
early  arrivals  have  to  endure  a  final  cold  snap. 
I  have  flushed  solitary  birds  which  appeared 
extremely  dull  and  weak,  presumably  owing  to 
lack  of  food.  These  birds  certainly  came  North 
several  days  before  the  frost  was  out  of  the 
ground,  hence  before  they  could  get  at  their 
favorite  food,  i.e.  worms.  At  such  times  the 
woodcock  busies  himself  in  turning  over  the 
damp,  dead  leaves  beneath  which  he  finds  oc- 
casional grubs,  larvae,  and  worms  —  at  least 
sufficient  to  maintain  life  until  a  happier  day 
arrives. 

When  once  the  frost  is  out,  the  worms  work 
up  to  and  near  the  surface,  and  the  cock  is  en- 
abled to  feast  at  his  leisure.  An  exploded  theory, 
once  believed  by  old-time  sportsmen,  was  that 
the  cock  lived  by  what  they  termed  "  suction  "  — 
that  he  thrust  his  long  bill  into  the  moist  earth 
and  sucked  up  some  form  of  liquid  nourishment. 
This  belief  was  strengthened  by  the  custom  of 
cooking  the  bird  with  the  intestines,  or  "  trail, " 


The  American  Woodcock  307 

as  they  were  termed,  still  within  the  body.  This 
"  trail  "  was  esteemed  a  great  delicacy.  It  looks 
like  a  snarl  of  whitish  twine,  and  when  the  epi- 
cure brings  it  to  light,  it  usually  is  accompanied 
by  a  stomach-like  pouch,  which  almost  invariably 
contains  more  or  less  fine  sand,  or  gritty  earth. 
Finding  this  and  nothing  else,  and  having  seen 
the  marks,  "borings,"  left  by  the  bird's  bill 
in  the  mud,  and  the  dried  mud  upon  the  bill 
itself,  the  wise  men  of  old  promptly  decided  that 
the  bird  fed  upon  mud,  and  mud  of  peculiar 
properties,  inasmuch  as  it  imparted  to  the  flesh 
a  most  acceptable  delicacy  and  richness.  The 
earthy  matter,  of  course,  had  been  inside  the 
worms,  which  had  disappeared,  owing  to  rapid 
digestion. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  the  cock  not  only 
eats  worms,  but  stows  away  an  astonishing  quan- 
tity of  them.  I  have  not  only  seen  a  big  worm 
escaping  from  the  throat  of  a  bird  just  killed,  but 
I  have  "  dug  bait "  for  a  tame  woodcock,  who  was 
as  exorbitant  in  his  demands  as  any  old  man 
going  fishing.  When  feeding  the  bird  referred 
to,  I  placed  a  good  handful  of  worms  on  some 
black  loam  which  covered  the  bottom  of  an  earth- 
enware dish.  An  inch  or  so  of  loam  was  sprin- 
kled over  the  worms,  a  little  water  splashed  over 
the  whole,  and  then  Master  P.  minor  was  allowed 
to  manage  for  himself.  This  he  cleverly  did,  by 


308  The  American  Woodcock 

thrusting  his  bill  deep  into  the  mess,  feeling  for 
the  prey  with  the  wonderfully  sensitive  and  flexi- 
ble tip  of  the  upper  mandible,  and  grasping  it 
without  the  slightest  trouble.  When  his  bill  was 
buried  to  almost  its  entire  length,  he  frequently 
seemed  to  be  sucking,  as  sometimes  a  minute 
bubble  would  appear  at  the  angle  of  his  mouth. 
So  far  as  could  be  observed,  he  sucked  down 
some  worms  and  drew  others  entirely  from  the 
mud  and  then  swallowed  them.  Occasionally,  he 
would  give  his  bill  a  quick  flirt  to  one  side  and 
reject  one  of  those  yellow-bellied,  red-ringed 
worms,  so  abundant  about  old  manure-piles.  I 
never  intentionally  offered  him  one  of  those 
worms,  but  boys  frequently  brought  both  sorts 
in  the  one  can.  As  I  never  saw  him  eat  one  of 
them,  and  never  saw  him  reject  a  true  garden 
worm,  I  concluded  that  he  did  not  fancy  the 
manure  brand  of  fare.  Yet  I  have  often,  at 
night,  flushed  a  cock  from  a  damp  spot  near  the 
stable,  where  the  ringed,  evil-smelling  worms 
were  amazingly  plentiful.  Possibly  they  are  oc- 
casionally eaten,  but  I  suspect  that  a  few  garden 
worms  in  the  same  spot  were  the  real  attraction. 

An  intelligent  examination  of  a  woodcock  will 
prove  him  to  be  a  most  interesting  example  of 
nature's  wisdom  in  planning  to  meet  certain  con- 
ditions. His  chief  food  is  angleworms,  for  which 
he  must  do  much  probing  and  feeling  in  the  soft 


The  American  Woodcock  309 

ground  they  prefer.  Hence  his  bill  is  shaped  so 
it  will  easily  enter  mud ;  it  is  long,  that  it  may  go 
far  enough  ;  and  it  is  equipped  with  a  system  of 
nerves  which  make  it  (like  the  trunk  of  an  ele- 
phant) so  sensitive  that  it  can  at  once  distinguish 
between  a  real  worm  and  a  wormlike  root,  and 
even  between  worms  of  different  sorts.  When 
the  bird  is  boring  forehead-deep  in  the  mud,  he, 
necessarily,  is  crouched.  An  ordinary  bird,  in  this 
position,  either  would  have  its  eyes  in  direct  con- 
tact with  the  mud,  or  so  near  it  that  they  would 
be  unable  to  see  anything  near  by,  especially  any 
prowling  foe  planning  a  rear  attack.  To  avoid 
this  dangerous  handicap,  the  cock's  eyes  are 
placed  near  the  upper  rear  corners  of  his  squar- 
ish skull,  an  arrangement  which  not  only  keeps 
the  eyes  above  the  mud,  but  enables  the  bird  to 
see,  without  raising  its  head,  whatever  may  be 
transpiring  above  and  behind.  Furthermore,  the 
big,  beautiful  eyes  are  owl-like  in  their  power  to 
utilize  the  faintest  of  lights,  and  thus  enable  the 
cock  to  travel  and  feed  at  will  in  the  damp,  moon- 
less nights  when  the  wormy  prey  is  upon  or  near 
the  surface  of  the  ground. 

If  the  feeding  of  the  woodcock  could  be  care- 
fully studied,  we  might  learn  some  very  interest- 
ing things.  This  much  I  know.  In  addition  to 
the  characteristic  turning  over  of  moist  leaves 
during  March  and  early  April,  and  the  boring  in 


310  The  American  Woodcock 

muddy  spots,  the  cock  also  is  a  surface  feeder, 
both  on  damp  and  almost  dry  ground.  Being 
chiefly  nocturnal  in  his  habits,  and  given  to 
dozing  the  long  days  through,  snug-hid  in  the 
velvet  shade  of  cool  lush  growths,  he  often  flies 
far  through  the  dusk  from  the  day  cover  to  the 
feeding  ground. 

More  frequently  than  most  people  imagine,  his 
explorations  extend  to  the  hearts  of  large  towns 
and  cities,  where  trim  gardens  and  broad  lawns 
form  attractive  hunting  grounds.  It  is  no  un- 
common thing  for  some  early-rising  citizen  to 
find  a  dead  or  wing-broken  cock  upon  the  lawn 
or  street  walk.  Birds  so  found  have  fouled  a 
wire  while  speeding  to  or  from  some  garden  rich 
in  worms.  The  reason  for  the  cock's  visits  to 
town  is  the  same  which  caused  some  historic  old 
cocks  to  put  on  their  thinking-caps,  namely,  the 
diet  of  worms.  Rich,  well-tended  gardens  furnish 
what  Kipling  calls  "  good  hunting,"  and  this  the 
outlying  cock  in  some  mysterious  manner  knows. 
He  also  knows  that  it  is  one  of  the  customs  of 
the  country  to  have  heavy  dews  fall  some  nights, 
while  it  also  is  a  custom  of  the  citizens  of  the 
country  to  sprinkle  their  lawns  during  that  easy 
period  after  dinner  when  the  sun  has  ceased  from 
scorching,  and  the  pleasure,  or  business  weary 
may  best  enjoy  the  strenuous  life  of  him  who 
holds  the  markets  of  the  metropolis  in  one  hand 


The  American  Woodcock  311 

and  in  the  other  sufficient  American  Rubber  to 
form  a  serpentine  and  slightly  leaky  garden  hose. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  boys  may  understand 
the  poetry  of  digging  bait.  This  is  it.  When 
you  want  to  go  fishing  next  morning,  or  when 
the  pater  wants  to  go,  and  tells  you  to  procure 
bait  or  expect  trouble  —  dorit  dig  !  Digging  is 
hard  and  frequently  uncertain  work.  Instead, 
volunteer  to  sprinkle  the  lawn,  and  give  it  a 
thorough  soaking  —  sufficient  water  means  suc- 
cess. About  midnight,  take  a  strong  light  and 
go  over  the  wetted  surface,  and  you  will  find 
worms  a-plenty  crawling  through  the  grass,  and 
they  will  be  the  fattest  and  finest  kind  of  worms 
too  —  in  fact,  such  worms  as  the  woodcock  knows 
he  will  find  when  he  makes  a  flying  trip  to  the 
freshly  watered  lawn. 

Another  interesting  point  is  this.  An  old 
(colored)  naturalist  once  told  me  that  the  cock 
danced  on  the  ground  and  often  tapped  with  the 
tip  of  his  bill  to  make  the  worms  come  to  the 
surface.  This  I  did  not  then  believe,  but  a  riper 
experience  has  taught  me  that  there  frequently 
is  a  trace  of  truth  in  many  apparently  ridiculous 
statements. 

While  many  people  know  that  a  heavy  blow 
upon  the  ground  —  like  the  stroke  of  a  spade 
—  will  cause  near-by  worms  to  shrink  deeper  into 
their  tunnels,  perhaps  not  so  many  are  aware 


The  American  Woodcock 

that  a  light  tapping  may  bring  the  same  worms 
to  the  surface.  A  veteran  poacher  once  told  me 
that  when  he  wanted  easy  worms  during  a  dry 
spell,  he  first  soaked  a  likely  spot  with  a  few 
bucketfuls  of  water,  then  tapped  the  wet  spot  all 
over  with  a  light  switch.  The  only  reason  he  had 
for  the  tapping  was  that  his  father  always  did  it. 

This  set  me  to  thinking,  and  the  natural  solu- 
tion of  the  apparent  mystery  was  that  the  poured 
water,  percolating  downward  through  the  holes, 
notified  the  worms  that  it  was  raining  up  above  — 
hence  a  good  time  for  them  to  rise  to  the  surface. 
The  tapping  of  the  switch  was  an  imitation  of 
the  patter  of  falling  drops  and  a  confirmatory 
message  to  the  worms.  Following  this  theory, 
we  boys  of  the  old  brigade  never  merely  upset 
our  water  pails,  but  held  them  high  and  caused 
the  water  to  spatter  like  rain ;  and  after  that  we 
lightly  and  rapidly  tapped  the  ground  all  over 
with  a  switch.  And  we  got  worms  !  It  may  be 
that  the  woodcock's  instinct  tells  him  to  both 
dance  and  tap  the  ground  to  induce  the  worms 
to  come  within  reach.  Other  creatures  do  stranger 
things  than  this. 

To  return  to  the  newly  arrived  bird  in  early 
spring.  After  a  reliable  food  supply  has  become 
assured,  the  next  important  business  is  to  secure 
a  mate.  Those  who  would  study  the  wooing  of 
this  bird  must  spend  the  April  twilight  and 


The  American  Woodcock  313 

evening  in  his  haunts.  Through  the  soft,  damp 
air  comes  a  sudden  squeaking  cry,  not  unlike  the 
reedy  sound  emitted  by  some  of  the  animal  toys 
of  the  children.  It  is  followed  by  the  well-known 
and  musical  twittering,  which  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  that  other  whistling  of  the  air  pass- 
ing through  the  feathers  of  the  wing.  The 
squeaking  is  uttered  both  while  the  bird  is  upon 
the  ground  and  when  flying.  It  is  not  unlike  the 
cry  of  the  night-hawk,  for  which  bird  the  cock 
might,  in  the  dusk,  easily  be  mistaken,  were  it 
not  for  the  fact  that  the  hawk  does  not  begin  his 
airy  play  until  some  time  after  the  woodcock  has 
mated. 

My  favorite  ground  for  observation  was  a 
huge  level  pasture,  which  was  bounded  on  two 
sides  by  woodland  and  thickets.  Above  this 
open  the  woodcock  played  evening  after  evening, 
and  it  was  no  unusual  thing  to  see  a  male  waver- 
ing past  within  a  few  yards.  First  would  sound 
the  squeak  from  the  shadow  of  the  timber,  then 
the  whistle  of  the  wings  as  the  bird  left  the 
ground,  and  then  I  would  see  the  dark  form  of 
the  bird  weaving  to  and  fro,  often  at  great  speed. 
After  some  preliminary  darting  about,  during 
which  he  occasionally  uttered  the  rasping  squeak, 
he  would  begin  to  tower  —  up  and  up,  till  he 
seemed  far  above  the  tallest  trees,  and  could 
be  located  only  by  his  twittering  whistle ;  then  he 


3H  The  American  Woodcock 

would  dive  like  a  night-hawk,  slanting  sometimes 
for  several  hundred  feet.  Birds  so  occupied 
appeared  to  dive  at  random  in  any  direction,  but 
most  of  them  eventually  worked  back  toward  their 
original  rising-points  —  presumably  because  the 
object  of  their  devotion  was  somewhere  in  that 
vicinity.  The  love-making  of  the  Wilson's  snipe 
is  somewhat  similar. 

The  nest,  frequently  found  in  a  low-lying  maple 
thicket,  consists  of  a  few  dry  leaves  drawn  together 
on  the  ground.  The  four  pear-shaped  eggs  are 
buff,  spotted  with  reddish  brown,  and  considerably 
larger  than  a  novice  would  expect  from  the  size 
of  the  bird.  The  young  are  tottery  little  things, 
able  to  run  feebly  as  soon  as  dry.  They  some- 
times make  what  seems  like  a  half-hearted  attempt 
at  hiding,  but  at  both  running  and  hiding  they 
lack  the  nervous  speed  and  cleverness  of  such 
spry  small  rascals  as  young  quail  or  grouse. 

The  mother,  surprised  with  the  young,  makes 
no  great  demonstration,  usually  fluttering  up 
amid  the  saplings  and  down  again  at  no  great 
distance.  On  such  occasions  I  have  heard  her 
utter  a  low  quacking  sound,  once  or  twice  re- 
peated. If  the  discoverer  of  the  young  will  retreat 
and  conceal  himself  at  some  point  from  which  he 
can  observe  the  subsequent  proceedings,  he  may 
see  the  female  return  and  remove  the  young  one 
at  a  time.  This  I  have  not  seen  done  in  the  case 


The  American  Woodcock  315 

of  four  youngsters,  but  I  have  good  reason  to 
believe  that  I  have  seen  one  carried  off.  The 
nest  in  question  was  on  a  bit  of  level  ground  amid 
tall  trees.  The  sole  suggestion  of  cover  was  a 
lot  of  flattened  leaves  which  lay  as  the  snow  had 
left  them.  Perhaps  ten  yards  away  was  an  old 
rail  fence  about  waist-high,  and  on  the  farther 
side  of  it  was  a  clump  of  tall  saplings.  A  man 
coming  out  of  the  wood  told  me  he  had  just 
flushed  a  woodcock  and  had  seen  her  brood,  re- 
cently hatched,  and  pointed  out  where  they  were. 
I  went  in  to  investigate,  and  located  one  young 
bird  crouched  on  the  leaves.  It  ran  a  few  steps 
and  again  crouched,  evidently  not  yet  strong 
enough  for  any  sustained  effort.  I  went  off,  and 
hid  behind  a  stump,  to  await  developments. 
From  this  shelter  the  young  bird  was  visible  and 
it  made  no  attempt  to  move.  Presently  the  old 
one  came  fluttering  back,  alighted  near  the  young- 
ster, and  walked  to  it.  In  a  few  moments  she 
rose  and  flew  low  and  heavily,  merely  clearing 
the  fence,  and  dropping  perhaps  ten  yards  within 
the  thicket.  Her  legs  appeared  to  be  half-bent, 
and  so  far  as  I  could  determine  the  youngster  was 
held  between  them.  Something  about  her  ap- 
pearance reminded  me  of  a  thing  often  seen  —  a 
shrike  carrying  off  a  small  bird.  I  carefully 
marked  her  down,  then  glanced  toward  where 
the  youngster  had  been.  It  was  no  longer  there ; 


316  The  American  Woodcock 

and  a  few  moments  later  it,  or  its  mate,  was  found 
exactly  where  the  mother  had  gone  down.  She 
flushed  and  made  off  in  the  usual  summer  flight. 
These  details  are  dwelt  upon  because  many  writers 
have  disputed  the  carrying  of  the  young.  My 
impression  is  that  the  bird  had  removed  the  other 
children  before  I  got  to  the  place.  The  one 
found,  however,  was  alone,  and  the  others  were 
not  located.  They  certainly  were  not  beside  the 
one,  but  the  search  for  them  was  brief,  owing  to 
the  fact  that  there  was  a  nasty  possibility  of  step- 
ping on  them. 

The  feeding  of  the  downy  young  I  have  not 
seen,  so  the  next  step  must  be  to  the  soft  ground 
of  almost  dried  creek  beds  and  swales  where  the 
young  do  their  own  boring.  Here  begins  the 
early  cock-shooting,  and  the  man  who  fancies 
such  easy  marks  is  welcome  to  them.  The  con- 
ditions are  all  against  enjoyable  sport,  or  shoot- 
ing which  will  be  any  great  test  of  marksmanship. 
As  a  rule  there  is  a  lot  of  thick  cover  about, 
which  shuts  off  what  light  breeze  there  may  be, 
while  in  many  creek  beds  a  harsh,  keen-edged 
grass  grows  abundantly.  In  this  a  good  dog  is 
bound  to  suffer  —  in  fact,  in  my  opinion,  the 
game  is  not  worth  the  candle.  If  a  man  must 
do  it,  he  had  best  depend  upon  a  tough,  bustling 
spaniel,  for  beating  muddy  ground  upon  a  sultry 
day  is  a  mighty  poor  occupation  for  a  setter  or 


\The  American  Woodcock 


317 


pointer  worthy  of  the  name.  In  many  parts  of 
the  country,  notably  upon  the  sides  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania mountains,  there  are  peculiar  wet  spots, 
frequently  of  considerable  extent.  These  spots 
occur  precisely  where  one  naturally  would  expect 
dryness,  and  there  usually  is  more  or  less  dense, 
leafy  cover  about  them.  On  such  ground,  one 
is  apt  to  find  a  fair  number  of  birds  during  July 
and  August. 

About  September  most  of  the  small  creeks, 
which  afforded  excellent  boring  earlier  in  the 
season,  have  become  too  dry.  Then  the  cock 
are  very  apt  to  betake  themselves  to  large  fields 
of  green  corn.  In  this  tall  cover  there  frequently 
is  very  pretty  snap-shooting,  and  a  man  can  work 
his  pointer,  or  setter,  to  advantage.  A  bell  on 
the  dog,  tied  to  his  neck  with  a  string  which  will 
not  sustain  the  dog's  weight,  is  no  bad  wrinkle. 

The  wise  man,  beating  a  field  of  tall  corn,  will 
not  falsely  judge  its  promise  because  it  happens 
to  appear  pretty  dry.  There  may  be  —  nay,  there 
frequently  is  —  a  low-lying  and  much  damper 
acre  or  so  near  the  centre  and  hidden  by  the 
corn.  Such  a  bit  often  affords  choice  feeding. 
And  even  a  dusty,  dry  field  may  happen  to  be  the 
day  resort  of  half  the  birds  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  cock  not  infrequently  pass  the  day  in  such 
fields,  and  fly  far  and  wide  to  feed  at  dusk.  There- 
fore, it  is  well  to  work  through  the  field  and  keep 


3l8  The  American  Woodcock 

a  keen  eye  upon  the  ground  for  the  two  infallible 
signs,  the  borings  and  the  droppings,  the  latter 
showing  distinctly  like  drops  of  whitewash  on  the 
ground. 

In  a  corn-field  the  borings  may  be  scattered  or 
in  clusters,  the  latter  arrangement  suggesting  that 
the  probing  bill  had  found  "pay  dirt"  —  other- 
wise, wormy  ground.  The  appearance  of  the 
borings  is  unlike  worm-holes  or  any  other  holes, 
of  which  many  may  show.  The  woodcock's  sign 
looks  as  though  somebody  had  thrust  a  slim 
pencil  again  and  again — perhaps  a  dozen  times 
in  a  spot  a  foot  square  —  into  the  ground.  The 
arrangement  of  the  holes  maybe  roughly  circular, 
in  lines,  or  scattered,  but  their  presence  attests 
that  one  or  more  birds  spent  some  time  at  the 
spot.  Quite  often  there  will  be  no  borings  what- 
ever in  the  open  spaces  between  the  rows  of  corn, 
while  close  about  the  roots  the  soil  may  be 
riddled.  And  it  is  well  to  remember  that  one  or 
two  birds  sometimes  make  an  astonishing  num- 
ber of  holes,  and  also  that  birds  may  feed  in  a 
certain  field,  yet  not  remain  there  during  the  day. 
I  have  seen  ground  riddled  like  the  bottom  of  a 
colander,  yet  never  a  bird  in  that  field.  Then  is 
the  time  to  climb  the  fence  and  take  a  look  at  the 
surroundings,  for  an  adjacent  bit  of  heavy  woods 
or  a  thicket  may  be  well  worth  a  visit.  A  useful 
rule,  too,  when  a  heavy  rain  follows  a  dry  spell,  is 


The  American  Woodcock 

to  visit  the  fields  the  next  morning,  bright  and 
early.  The  birds  know  that  the  rain  wrill  bring 
up  the  erstwhile  deeply  buried  worms,  and  that 
the  corn  lands  will  offer  the  fattest  of  foraging. 

It  is  possible  to  make  good  woodcock  ground 
in  an  afternoon,  or  even  within  a  couple  of  hours, 
if  you  are  sufficiently  energetic.  A  teaspoonful 
of  whiting  and  some  water  in  a  handy  bottle  — 
well  shaken  before  takin'  —  makes  most  excellent 
droppings,  while  a  pencil,  or  stiff  twig,  cannot  be 
beaten  in  the  line  of  borings.  Once  there  was  a 
man,  a  highly  conceited,  extremely  self-assertive 
man,  the  kind  of  man  to  whom  nobody  on  earth 
can  teach  anything,  and  he  knew  all  about  wood- 
cock. One  day  he  happened  to  flush  a  cock  in 
a  field  quite  near  town,  and  he  swore  he  flushed 
six.  Early  next  morning  another  man,  and  an 
evil  man  withal,  slipped  to  that  field  and  killed 
the  lone  bird  before  half-past  seven.  There  were 
about  enough  borings  to  make  one  colander, 
which  showed  that  a  solitary  bird  had  happened 
into  the  field,  and  not  six,  as  the  fork-tongued  man 
had  sworn.  Whereupon  the  misled  man  waxed 
wroth,  and  he  took  a  small  cold  bottle  and  the 
hottest  kind  of  a  hot  bird,  i.e.  a  foot  of  fence- 
wire,  and  he  made  that  corn-field  look  as  if  a 
hundred  thousand  ten-ounce  woodcock  were  given 
to  boring  and  chalking  the  same.  And  after 
office-hours  came  the  fork-tongued  man  cautiously 


The  American  Woodcock 

hasting,  gun  in  hand  and  dog  at  heel,  and  cock- 
sure, and  he  went  to  work,  and  he  remained  at 
work.  Neither  the  one  he  saw,  nor  the  six  he 
said  he  saw,  were  in  the  cover  —  and  so  he  beat 
the  dog  for  a  no-good  brute,  and  went  home  ex- 
ceeding wrathful.  And  the  next  day  and  also 
the  next  —  but  why  linger? 

The  operation  of  corn-cutting,  of  course,  ruins 
the  cover  and  drives  the  birds  to  adjacent  woods 
and  thickets,  where  they  may  be  found  until  some 
cold  snap  sends  them  hastening  southward.  The 
brief  season  immediately  after  the  leaves  have 
fallen  brings  the  cream  of  the  cock-shooting. 
Then  a  good  dog  can  range  at  will,  and  any  one 
of  the  swift,  plump  birds  he  may  point  is  well 
worth  a  dozen  of  the  moulting  weaklings  of  the 
earlier  season.  While  I  consider  a  mixed  bag 
the  best  possible  of  the  autumn,  there  are  few 
field  experiences  to  compare  with  one  of  those 
too  rarely  granted  Indian  summer  days,  when 
one  finds  long  strips  of  leafless  thicket  containing 
anywhere  from  fifteen  to  thirty  prime  woodcock. 
Many  of  such  thickets  of  western  Ontario  have 
furnished  the  crowning  triumph  of  a  glorious  day, 
and  if  the  mighty  voice  of  Niagara  could  be  soft- 
ened to  a  confidential  whisper,  it  might  tattle 
of  rare  doings  in  its  trembling  gorge,  when  the 
gay  maples  flaunted  their  splendors  which  the 
sly  mist  strove  to  veil. 


The  American  Woodcock 


321 


The  gun  for  woodcock  is  the  twelve-gauge  — 
the  quail-gun,  and  the  same  load  answers  for  both 
birds ;  indeed,  I  once  made  twin  loads  answer  for 
both  birds.  The  quail  had  gone  to  cover,  from 
which  a  cock  and  a  quail  rose  almost  side  by  side, 
affording  a  seldom-granted  double. 

Good  cock-shooting  is  now  almost  a  thing  of 
the  past  in  many  places  where  heavy  bags  used 
to  be  the  rule.  The  heaviest  bag  ever  I  saw  was 
sixty-odd  to  two  guns  in  one  day,  scored  by  two 
market  hunters  near  Lake  St.  Clair.  Walpole 
Island,  in  the  same  water  system,  used  to  be  a 
famous  cock  ground.  It  is  quite  possible  that  a 
belt  of  country  a  few  miles  wide  and  extending 
entirely  around  Lake  St.  Clair,  would  contain  as 
many  cock  as  any  other  area  of  equal  mileage  in 
the  North.  Extensive  drainage,  backed  by  too 
close  shooting,  has  played  havoc  with  leagues 
upon  leagues  of  what  formerly  were  the  strong- 
holds of  this  choice  game. 


BARTRAM'S  SANDPIPER  — UPLAND 
PLOVER 

(Bartramia  longicaudd) 

Adult  —  Crown,  nape,  back,  and  scapulars,  black,  feathers  edged 
with  buff;  hind  neck,  sides  of  head,  and  neck,  buff,  streaked 
with  dark  brown ;  lesser  wing-coverts,  light  brown,  barred  with 
black  and  buff;  greater  coverts,  dark  brown,  barred  on  inner 
web,  edged  and  tipped  with  white;  primaries,  dark  brown, 
edged  with  creamy  white ;  lower  back,  rump,  and  central  tail- 
coverts,  black ;  rest  of  coverts,  black  at  base,  remainder,  buff, 
barred  with  black  and  white;  central  feathers  of  tail,  gray, 
barred  with  black;  other  tail-feathers,  buff,  with  black  spots 
and  bar  near  tip,  which  is  white;  entire  under  parts,  buff, 
irregularly  barred  with  dark  brown  on  breast  and  flanks  ;  lower 
breast,  showing  a  few  V-shaped  dark  markings;  bill,  sooty 
brown,  lighter  at  base ;  legs  and  feet,  olive,  tinged  with  yellow. 
Length,  12  inches;  wing,  6|;  tarsus,  2.  Range,  eastern  North 
America  to  Nova  Scotia ;  westward  to  the  Rockies,  and  north 
to  the  Yukon  valley.  Its  southward  migration  extends  to  the 
Argentine  Republic  and  Peru.  Occasionally  taken  in  Europe 
and  Australia. 

In  all  probability  more  than  a  few  American 
sportsmen  will  fail  at  first  glance  to  recognize 
the  proper  name  of  this  choice  game-bird.  To 
them  it  is  the  "  upland  plover  "  and  nothing  more. 

322 


Bartram's  Sandpiper  —  Upland  Plover   323 

A  non-sporting  critic,  too,  might  question  the 
propriety  of  including  a  bird  of  the  name  in 
this  volume,  but  those  familiar  with  the  species 
will  readily  understand  why  it  is  given  place 
among  its  present  company.  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  connect  barelegged  birds  of  this  type 
with  wading,  or  at  least  with  trotting  the  beaches 
and  the  margins  of  streams  and  ponds;  but  the 
present  species,  except  during  the  nesting  sea- 
son, evinces  no  great  love  for  water,  or  even 
marshy  localities.  Naturally  a  haunter  of  plains 
and  uplands,  it  is  seldom  seen  within  a  gun- 
shot of  water;  in  fact,  from  its  habits,  one 
naturally  would  classify  it  with  the  plovers, 
rather  than  the  sandpipers.  Among  its  common 
names  are  "  gray "  and  "  grass  plover " ;  in  the 
West,  "prairie-pigeon,"  and,  among  the  Creoles 
of  Louisiana,  "papabotte."  On  the  principle 
that  "A  rose  by  any  other  name  will  smell  as 
sweet,"  this  sandpiper,  by  any  other  name  (and  it 
is  a  much-named  bird),  is  just  as  good  to  eat. 
Any  one  who  has  tasted  a  bird  in  prime  condition 
knows  why  this  species  is  eagerly  pursued,  for  in 
truth  it  is  a  dainty  not  to  be  overlooked.  I  have 
even  heard  men  of  considerable  epicurean  taste 
declare  that  they  prefer  it  to  the  woodcock,  which, 
while  perhaps  going  a  bit  too  far,  would  suggest 
that  the  dainty  of  the  uplands  is  by  no  means  to 
be  despised. 


324    Bartram's  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover 

To  see  this  bird  at  its  best  one  must  go  to 
the  big  grass  states,  from  Illinois  and  Kansas, 
southward  to  Texas.  In  portions  of  the  last- 
named  state  it  frequently  is  seen  in  great 
flocks,  the  like  of  which  are  unknown  in  the 
East.  Some  twenty  years  ago,  in  a  corner  of 
Illinois,  I  saw  more  "gray  plover,"  as  they  were 
then  called,  than  could  be  counted  by  any  one 
short  of  a  lightning  calculator.  Such  a  spectacle 
was  perhaps  never  seen  much  farther  East,  even 
in  localities  where  the  plover  is  deemed  a  very 
common  bird. 

In  regions  much  shot  over,  which  means  the 
bird's  eastern  range,  it  is  by  no  means  an  easy 
quarry;  in  fact,  it  seldom  allows  itself  to  be  ap- 
proached within  the  reliable  range  of  even  a  fine 
gun.  One  may  see  hundreds  running  about,  or 
standing  motionless  and  sharply  defined  above 
the  grass,  and  yet  fail  to  make  anything  like  a 
heavy  bag.  Old  settlers  have  told  me  that  in 
the  early  days  of  settlement  on  the  plains,  the 
birds  were  almost  fearless,  and  their  incessant 
scolding  at  an  intruder  was  at  times  positively 
annoying;  but  when  my  day  in  the  West  began 
there  was  very  little  of  that  sort  of  thing.  The 
sandpiper  seemed  to  have  acquired  a  very  useful 
idea  concerning  the  range  of  modern  firearms, 
and  only  in  the  spring  and  while  the  young  were 
unable  to  fly  did  the  older  birds  betray  any  reck- 


Bartram's  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover   325 

lessness  in  the  matter  of  allowing  a  man  to  ap- 
proach them. 

It  is  a  very  active  bird,  running  smoothly  and 
rapidly  when  in  the  humor  and  flying  with 
dovelike  speed.  Like  its  distant  relative,  the 
small,  spotted  sandpiper,  it  will  not  hesitate 
to  alight  upon  a  fence,  pile  of  boards,  or  out- 
building. The  nest  is  merely  a  slight  depres- 
sion in  the  ground,  roughly  lined  with  a  few 
blades  of  grass.  The  four  eggs  are  very  large, 
the  ground  color  grayish  buff,  with  spots  of 
dark  brown  and  grayish  brown.  They  are 
hatched  in  June,  and  shortly  after  the  young 
are  seen  running  totteringly  over  the  grass. 
They  make  a  feeble  attempt  at  hiding,  but  are 
practically  helpless  and  altogether  comical-look- 
ing spindle-shanked  affairs.  The  mother  is  a 
most  devoted  parent,  keeping  up  a  shrill  appeal, 
simulating  lameness,  and  even  plunging  in  a 
threatening  manner  about  one's  head.  When  the 
birds  have  mated  in  numbers,  the  outcry  of  one 
starts  all  the  rest  to  scolding,  and  the  din  they 
raise  can  be  heard  afar.  The  food  of  this  species 
is  chiefly  insectivorous.  Vast  numbers  of  grass- 
hoppers and  crickets  are  consumed,  and  also  berries 
of  various  sorts.  Toward  the  end  of  the  summer  it 
leaves  the  grass  and  takes  to  the  cultivated  lands 
for  a  period.  Before  the  end  of  September  most 
of  the  small  flocks  unite  and  move  southward. 


326    Bartram's  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover 

Some  of  the  finest  sport  it  has  been  my  lot 
to  enjoy  with  this  bird  was  upon  those  rare 
days  when  the  plover  of  a  large  area  appeared 
to  be  posted  singly  and  many  yards  apart.  I 
have  seen  a  bit  of  prairie  about  a  mile  square, 
dotted  all  over  with  motionless  and  observant 
birds,  and  these  so  evenly  distributed  that  they 
might  have  posed  for  so  many  decoys.  Under 
such  conditions,  it  occasionally  happens  that  a 
man  on  foot  can  have  some  very  pretty  shoot- 
ing. But  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  very 
close  approach.  The  average  "  rise "  probably 
would  be  about  thirty-five  yards,  at  which  dis- 
tance only  a  quick  man,  aided  by  a  hard-shoot- 
ing gun,  can  hope  to  score  at  all  uniformly. 
Upon  such  a  day,  too,  the  great  majority  of 
chances  will  be  quartering  shots,  for  the  birds 
seem  to  prefer  to  keep  their  enemy  plainly  in 
view.  This,  of  course,  means  that  the  gun  must 
be  well  ahead  of  the  mark  and  kept  at  an  even 
swing.  In  fact,  the  sport  bears  no  slight  resem- 
blance to  live  bird  shooting  at  the  traps.  The 
plover  gets  away  smartly  and  is  soon  at  top  speed, 
and  the  top  speed  of  this  bird  is  no  poor  imitation 
of  fast  flying.  But,  unfortunately,  such  days  are 
all  too  few,  the  general  rule  being  that  these  scat- 
tered birds  flush  almost  beyond  range  and  fly  to 
a  considerable  distance  before  pitching.  This 
necessitates  a  deal  of  walking,  and  encourages 


Bartram's  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover    327 

that  undesirable  thing,  i.e.  shooting  when  the 
game  is  beyond  the  reliable  killing  zone  of  the 
gun,  and  the  consequent  wounding  of  birds  which 
never  will  be  gathered. 

A  popular  method  in  many  parts  of  the  West 
is  to  drive  to  the  birds  in  a  buckboard,  or 
other  convenient  rig.  For  a  man  who  can 
shoot  well  in  the  sitting  posture  this  is  an  ex- 
cellent plan,  as  the  birds  almost  invariably  will 
permit  a  wheeled  conveyance  to  approach  within 
comparatively  easy  range.  A  clever  driver  is 
a  valuable  assistant.  Such  a  man  never  heads 
his  team  directly  at  the  birds,  but  drives  as 
though  he  merely  intended  to  pass  them  by. 
A  good  judge  of  distance  in  the  open  can 
in  this  way  edge  within  comfortable  range  of 
plover  which,  if  the  driver  steered  straight  for 
them,  or  the  gun  attempted  to  dismount  and 
stalk,  would  at  once  make  off.  I  have  va- 
ried the  shooting  from  the  seat  by  walking 
at  the  horse's  shoulders.  The  plover  do  not 
appear  to  notice  the  extra  pair  of  legs.  This 
sometimes  gives  the  prettiest  kind  of  shooting. 
All  one  has  to  do  is  to  judge  when  sufficiently 
close,  then  stand  still  with  the  gun  at  the  ready, 
while  the  team  moves  steadily  ahead.  Usually 
the  plover  will  take  wing  the  moment  the  foot- 
man is  uncovered;  but  should  they  not,  the 
man  can  gain  a  few  yards  by  briskly  walking 


328    Bartram's  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover 

toward  them.  I  have  occasionally  stalked  them 
by  keeping  close  to  the  shoulder  of  a  steady 
old  horse  that  was  indifferent  in  the  matters 
of  smoke  and  loud  reports.  A  reliable  nag, 
equipped  with  some  inconspicuous  form  of  halter 
and  guide-line,  is  a  very  useful  assistant  when 
birds  are  too  wary  for  ordinary  scouting  tac- 
tics. Occasionally,  sudden  heavy  rains  flood 
big  meadows,  and  thus  furnish  attractive  tem- 
porary quarters  for  ducks  and  waders  of  vari- 
ous sorts.  In  such  emergencies  the  horse  may 
prove  an  almost  invaluable  assistant.  A  cow 
of  sedate  temperament  is  a  possibility  in  the 
same  line,  but  she  seldom  is  so  easy  to  con- 
trol as  the  superior  animal.  In  the  olden  days, 
an  artificial  stalking  horse  frequently  was  called 
into  service ;  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  a 
colt  out  of  that  ancient  steed  still  might  prove 
useful  upon  ground  which  has  been  much  used 
as  pasture. 

The  fluting  of  this  sandpiper  is  sweet,  far- 
reaching,  and  somewhat  deceptive.  Quite  often 
it  is  distinctly  heard  falling  from  an  apparently 
wingless  sky.  A  good  pair  of  eyes,  fixed  upon 
the  quarter  indicated  by  the  cry,  may  pres- 
ently detect  a  motelike  form  lazily  floating  in 
the  distant  blue.  This  drifting  flight  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  present  species,  and  it  usually 
ends  in  a  diving  slant  earthward,  which  is  per- 


THE   GAME-BIRD   OF  THE   UNIVERSE 
(Upland  Plover) 


Bartrants  Sandpiper — Upland  Plover    329 

formed  without  any  perceptible  motion  of  the 
wings.  A  few  feet  from  the  ground  the  long, 
beautifully  easy  descent  is  gently  checked,  and 
the  bird  alights  as  quietly  as  though  it  had 
stooped  only  a  yard  or  so  instead  of  hundreds 
or  thousands  of  feet.  For  a  few  seconds  after 
alighting  the  bird  is  apt  to  keep  its  wings  con- 
siderably elevated  above  its  back,  and  the  brief 
pose  in  this  position  is  particularly  attractive. 
Then  the  airy  fans  are  sedately  furled.  This 
pretty  trick  of  keeping  the  wings  spread  as  if 
for  a  momentary  study  of  how  they  should  be 
correctly  folded  is  not  peculiar  to ,  this  species. 
Others  of  its  near  and  remote  kin  go  through 
the  same  dainty  evolution,  although,  perhaps, 
without  the  air  of  studied  care  which  is  charac- 
teristic of  Bartram's  sandpiper. 

While  the  excellence  of  this  bird  for  the  table 
is  universally  acknowledged,  it  would  appear 
that  a  sojourn  in  Louisiana  is  necessary  to 
bring  it  to  the  greatest  perfection.  A  certain 
Creole,  himself  an  amateur  chef  of  no  uncer- 
tain standing,  has  often  assured  me  that  the 
"  papabotte,"  a  la  Louisiana,  is  the  daintiest 
morsel  that  ever  tickled  an  appreciative  palate, 
not  even  excepting  a  prime  woodcock.  His 
argument  is  that  the  peculiar  excellence  of  the 
papabotte,  like  that  of  the  canvasback,  is  merely 
a  matter  of  diet,  and  that  the  papabotte,  while 


Bartram's  Sandpiper —  Upland  Plover 

in  Louisiana,  feeds  upon  a  certain  insect  which 
imparts  to  the  flesh  a  flavor  calculated  to  make 
a  man  forget  his  troubles,  his  appointments, 
and  everything  that  is  his. 


THE   GOLDEN   PLOVER 

(Charadrtus  dominicus) 

Adult  male  (summer  plumage)  —  Entire  upper  parts,  black,  spotted 
all  over  with  golden  yellow  and  white;  wing-coverts,  sooty 
brown,  with  a  few  spots  of  yellow  and  white;  primaries, 
brown,  shafts,  whitish;  upper  tail-coverts,  black,  with  irregu- 
lar golden  bars;  tail,  brownish  gray,  with  white  bars,  and 
flecked  with  yellowish ;  across  the  forehead,  above  the  eyes, 
and  down  the  sides  of  the  neck,  extends  a  broadening  white 
line  until  it  joins  the  white  sides  of  the  breast,  which  in  turn 
merge  into  white  flanks;  sides  of  head,  neck,  and  all  lower 
parts  to  under  tail-coverts,  jet  black,  with  golden  spots  along 
the  edge  of  the  black  of  breast  and  flanks ;  under  tail-coverts, 
white;  bill,  black,  one  inch  long;  legs  and  feet,  lead  color. 
Length,  about  10  inches;  wing,  7;  tarsus,  \\.  In  the  winter 
plumage,  the  under  parts  are  white,  or  whitish,  with  a  few 
brownish  and  black  mottlings.  The  adult  female  is  like  the 
male,  but  slightly  paler  and  less  decided  in  all  conspicuous 
markings.  Range,  the  Americas,  from  the  Arctic  regions  to 
Chili  and  Patagonia. 

The  golden  plover,  "green  plover,"  "golden- 
back,"  "  frost-bird,"  etc.,  has  the  same  claim 
to  recognition  among  upland  game  as  has  been 
advanced  in  behalf  of  the  preceding  species.  As 
it  breeds  in  the  far  north  and  spends  the  win- 
ter so  far  south,  it  is  a  migrant  so  far  as  this 


The  Golden  Plover  331 

country  is  concerned,  passing  northward  in  the 
spring  and  returning  southward  bound  in  the 
fall.  While  frequently  seen  in  numbers  along 
the  coast  and  about  the  shores  of  the  Great 
Lakes,  especially  during  the  spring  flight,  it 
also  is  a  common  bird  of  the  great  plains,  pas- 
tures, and  fields  of  the  dry  interior  in  early 
autumn.  It  reaches  Alaska  and  other  north- 
ern points  during  May.  The  nest  is  a  roughly 
lined  hollow  in  any  convenient  growth  of  moss 
or  grass,  and  the  usual  number  of  eggs  is  four. 
They  are  yellowish  buff,  spotted  with  reddish 
brown.  During  average  seasons,  the  golden 
plover  is  apt  to  appear  in  the  latitude  of  Illi- 
nois, western  Ontario,  etc.,  between  the  ist  and 
the  1 5th  of  October,  but  the  time  of  arrival 
is  subject  to  considerable  variation,  as  are  the 
yearly  visits  of  the  birds.  I  have  seen  thousands 
of  them  one  season,  and  perhaps  a  few  scattering 
specimens,  or  none  at  all,  for  several  successive 
years.  When  found  thinly  dispersed  over  big 
pastures  and  fields,  the  golden  plover  frequently 
affords  capital  sport,  but  when  large  flocks  are 
the  rule,  the  quality  of  the  sport  is  questionable 
if  that  of  the  slain  is  not.  Golden  plover  shoot- 
ing at  such  times  is  not  unlike  what  wild  pigeon 
shooting  used  to  be,  i.e.  something  closely  akin 
to  mere  butchery.  A  few  years  ago  a  huge  flock 
swept  down  upon  me,  and  their  unexpected  ap- 


332  Tbe  Golden  Plover 

pearance  so  astonished  me  that  fourteen  fine 
fellows  fell  to  two  barrels.  Needless  to  say,  this 
was  in  no  sense  sport,  and  my  sole  excuse  for  the 
outrage  is  that  I  thought  the  flock  was  travelling, 
and  unlikely  to  offer  another  chance. 

A   GOLDEN   OPPORTUNITY 

To  slip  away  from  grinding  Gotham,  from  the 
roar  and  the  clatter  and  the  ceaseless  jar  of  it  all, 
is  no  bad  medicine  for  a  weary  writer,  and  I  was 
taking  my  medicine  with  a  childish  swallowbility 
most  beautiful  to  behold. 

The  quiet  Ontario  parsonage  somewhat  resem- 
bled a  fat  old  dormouse  working  overtime;  but 
nevertheless  it  was  no  bad  place  to  be.  The 
night  silence  was  almost  appalling  and  I  lay 
like  a  scared  child  in  the  dark,  afraid  to  cry 
out  and  too  utterly  forsaken  to  think  of  going 
to  sleep. 

A  big  apple  —  soulless  and  criminally  irrespon- 
sible—  fell  with  a  crash  upon  a  distant,  hollow 
roof,  then  slowly  trundled  and  fell  again  to  earthy 
silence.  It  was  absolutely  terrifying.  Then 
there  came  a  mysterious  rustling,  a  feeling  of  a 
myriad  searching  fingers,  a  vague  sniffing  here 
and  there  and  everywhere  —  exactly  what  might 
have  been  caused  by  a  monstrous  blue  tiger  with 
a  pale  pink  tail  —  and  I  sat  up ! 


A  Golden  Opportunity 


333 


What  had  happened  ?  The  L-road  was  silent 
as  an  ancient  tomb!  The  surface  system  was 
paralyzed  !  There  was  never  a  gong,  nor  a  metal 
shoe  striking  a  cobble ;  it  was  awful !  Then 
came  a  gasping  whisper,  then  another  and  another. 
That  settled  it !  There  was  some  tremendous 
fire  down  town  and  everything  was  tied  up,  and 
somebody  in  my  room,  or  the  next,  had  been  left 
to  die  alone.  I  could  hear  his,  or  her,  soul  sliding 
out  between  the  set  teeth,  and  not  caring  to  have 
even  some  stranger's  soul  get  lost,  I  proceeded 
to  get  up. 

At  this  instant  came  another  sound.  Evi- 
dently the  suffering  soul  had  got  away  and  was 
now  wishing  itself  safe  back  again,  for  there  came 
a  slow,  solemn,  lost-forever  sort  of  wailing  —  an 
^Eolian  brand  of  dead  march,  in  which  every 
string  was  busy  and  a  fair  breeze  pledged  by  the 
weather  bureau.  In  it  was  every  known  note  of 
grief  unmeasured,  from  the  hopeless  misery  of  a 
child  irrigating  a  broken  doll,  to  the  staider  and 
better  sustained  effort  of  Rachel  mourning  for 
her  children,  with  a  dash  of  banshee  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  cup  of  sorrow.  Sweetly  solemn, 
wildly  sad  as  it  was,  it  was  very  welcome,  for 
those  same  old  pines  had  whispered  my  cradle- 
song  in  the  tow-headed  past. 

Some  few  moments  later,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
the  venerable  family  horse  took  a  stroll  through 


334  A  Golden  Opportunity 

the  hall  and  began  kicking  at  my  door.  If  it 
was  the  horse,  it  could  give  Balaam's  ass  weight 
for  age  and  flag  him,  for  presently  it  said,  — 

"  I  say  —  you  in  there  —  I  say-ay !  " 

Only  one  man  on  earth  was  allowed  to  use 
that  peculiar  drawling  "  I  sa-ay "  and  live,  and 
the  sound  of  it  woke  me  like  a  splash  of  cold 
water. 

"  That  you,  Joe  ?  Come  in  !  "  I  shouted,  won- 
dering meanwhile  how  the  deuce  he  had  got  there. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  brown,  foxy  face, 
fringed  with  grizzly  whiskers,  was  inserted  with 
about  the  same  amount  of  confidence  that  a  fox 
would  betray  while  examining  a  poorly  set  trap. 

"  I  say  — you  re  pretty  dom  comfortable,  ain't 
you  now  —  I  sa-ay  —  ain't  you  now?  I  say,  I 
seed  the  guv'nor  outside,  an'  he  told  me  to  come 
up  —  I  sa-ay,  he  told  me  to  come  up.  Get  up 
out  of  that,  you  lazy  devil !  —  I  say,  get  up  out  of 
that ! " 

A  curious,  but  a  rare  good,  fellow  was  Joe,  and 
a  mighty  hunter  withal.  Some  vague  number  of 
years  before  he  had  been  smitten,  in  England, 
with  a  peculiar,  sometimes  contagious,  disease 
which  he  pronounced  "powching,"  but  which 
others  pronounced  "  poaching." 

Born  with  his  full  share  of  sporting  blood, 
which  later  developed  a  passion  for  shooting,  the 
sturdy  young  Briton  also  had  a  useful  stock  of 


A  Golden  Opportunity  335 

sound  common  sense.  While  he  rebelled  against 
the  severity  of  British  game  laws,  he  thoroughly 
understood  their  meaning;  and  he  knew  that 
sooner  or  later  a  man  of  his  calibre  was  bound  to 
run  foul  of  them  and  get  into  serious  trouble. 
So  he  wisely  concluded  to  take  his  doctor's  advice 
and  try  the  effect  of  a  trip  over  sea.  Rugged  as 
a  gnarled  oak,  and  plucky  as  one  of  his  favorite 
black-red  stags,  he  had  no  fears,  and  no  sooner 
had  he  got  settled  in  Ontario  than  he  realized 
what  grand  sporting  possibilities  were  open  to 
him.  After  locating  upon  a  tidy  little  farm  a  few 
miles  from  Lake  St.  Clair,  he  wisely  devoted  him- 
self to  market  gardening  and  sport.  The  river 
and  lake  were  full  of  black  bass  and  other  fish ; 
deer  and  turkey  were  within  easy  reach;  quail 
swarmed  almost  everywhere ;  while  waterfowl, 
shore-birds,  cock,  snipe,  and  hares  added  to  sport 
the  like  of  which  he  had  dreamed  of,  but  never 
enjoyed. 

To  such  a  man,  the  new  land  was  like  a  home- 
stead in  Paradise,  and  his  early  training  served 
him  nobly  under  the  altered  conditions.  A 
fairly  good  shot  and  an  indefatigable  worker,  he 
soon  attained  renown  as  one  of  the  best  men 
afield  in  three  sporting  counties.  By  training  a 
close  observer,  his  shrewd  little  gray  eyes  missed 
nothing,  and  I  question  if  there  was  a  man  in  his 
part  of  the  country  who  knew  more  about  the 


336  A  Golden  Opportunity 

ways  of  wild  things.  Always  frankly  jolly  toward 
those  whom  he  fancied,  he  was  the  best  of  guides 
and  comrades  to  whomever  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  favor  in  his  eyes.  He  was  a  bit  careful 
about  the  men  he  asked  to  share  his  sport,  and 
he  hated  a  bluffer  or  a  shirker  as  he  hated  a  blank 
day.  Woe  betide  the  officious  know-it-all,  or  the 
man  who  boasted  about  his  prowess  and  failed  to 
make  good.  Joe  would  take  him  out  once  and  take 
his  measure  with  an  accuracy  that  would  make 
the  Bertillon  system  appear  like  guesswork. 
Joe's  "  I  say  he's  no  good,  I  sa-ay  he's  a  quitter" 
forever  settled  it. 

His  treatment  of  such  a  man  was  characteristic. 
Never  a  word  of  fault-finding,  or  anything  like 
discourtesy,  although  there  surely  would  be  some 
quaint  if  not  blistering  badinage.  Joe's  rule  was 
to  thoroughly  size  his  man  the  first  day,  and  then 
treat  him  according  to  his  deserts.  The  man 
found  wanting  in  the  necessary  gameness  for  the 
stiffest  of  tramps  was  liable  to  long  remember 
his  second  day.  So  surely  as  Joe  took  him  out, 
so  surely  would  he  be  led  to  the  slaughter. 

Quaking  bogs,  creeks,  the  deepest  of  mud,  and 
the  densest  of  cover  were  his  certain  portion. 
Through  it  all  the  iron  veteran  would  unflinch- 
ingly pilot  his  victim,  and  the  bag  would  be  the 
worst  possible.  Nightfall  would  find  them  three 
or  four  miles  deep  in  the  roughest  going,  and  the 


A  Golden  Opportunity  337 

final  homeward  tramp  was  something  the  victim 
never  forgot.  Then  Joe  would  bundle  him  into 
his  trap,  and  start  him  homeward  with  a  polite 
invitation  to  have  another  day  soon.  Needless  to 
say  that  day  never  came,  for  nothing  could  induce 
that  particular  subject  to  apply  for  a  second  treat- 
ment. 

Those  who  really  knew  Joe,  however,  appre- 
ciated his  sterling  worth.  Loyal  and  game  to  the 
core,  the  real  man  was  a  friend  worth  having,  for 
he  scorned  all  affectation  and  treachery,  and  the 
grip  of  his  strong  hand  meant  precisely  what  a 
manly  handclasp  should  mean.  I  have  shot  with 
many  men  of  various  walks  in  life,  but  I  have  yet 
to  meet  his  superior  in  those  valuable  qualifica- 
tions —  sound  common  sense,  shrewd,  dry  humor, 
bulldog  courage,  and  all-round  knowledge  of  his 
craft. 

The  first  time  I  shot  with  him,  I  got  it,  as 
everybody  else  did.  It  was  in  spring,  and  he  had 
me  out  about  two  hours  before  daylight  to  try  for 
geese.  By  nine  o'clock  the  flight  was  over,  and  a 
bit  of  snipe-shooting  followed.  Through  the 
mud  we  went  for  miles,  shooting,  reloading, 
gathering,  always  on  our  feet  in  heavy  mud.  The 
lunch  was  a  standing  function,  for  the  nearest  dry 
seat  was  afar  at  the  edge  of  the  dim  forest  line. 
Not  till  the  red  sun  touched  the  marsh  did  the 
veteran  (he  was  then  past  middle  age)  turn  home- 


33  8  A  Golden  Opportunity 

ward.  We  were  both  heavily  laden,  and  pounds 
of  mud  clung  to  our  waders.  When  finally  easier 
going  was  reached,  we  waded  into  a  ditch  and 
got  rid  of  the  mud.  For  a  mile  the  walking  was 
easier,  but  I  was  fast  curling  up  when  the  sight 
of  the  house  spurred  me  to  a  desperate  effort. 

"  I  say,  them  long  shanks  had  enough  —  I 
sa-ay  —  they  had  enough?"  queried  Joe,  as  we 
reached  his  gate.  His  face  was  gray  with  weari- 
ness, but  the  sharp  little  eyes  twinkled  defiantly. 
Needless  to  say  "  them  long  shanks  "  had  had 
more  than  enough  —  in  fact,  we  both  fell  sound 
asleep  in  our  chairs  before  supper  could  be  pre- 
pared. If  Arthur  of  sainted  memory  had  a  harder 
job  in  winning  his  spurs,  I  can  readily  understand 
why  he  died  so  long  ago  ! 

It  has  been  my  fate  to  hunt  with  three  extraor- 
dinary men  of  the  same  name :  Joe,  the  Indian, 
or  rather  "  breed,"  of  ptarmigan  fame ;  that  other 
Joe,  of  the  turkey  tracking ;  and  this  one.  Three 
better  men  in  their  respective  lines  never  tramped 
from  dawn  till  dusk,  and  if  there  be  dim  trails  in 
the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds,  there  will  be  Joes 
to  the  fore,  for  these  were  men  among  men. 

But  to  return  to  my  early  visit  and  its  object. 
Of  course,  it  was  shooting.  Joe  had  reached 
town  by  gray  dawn,  had  disposed  of  a  load  of 
produce,  and  was  ready  to  go  home.  He  was  a 
bit  impatient,  too,  which  was  a  good  sign ;  but  he 


A  Golden  Opportunity  339 

vouchsafed  no  further  information  than  a  state- 
ment that  he  knew  where  there  were  some  birds. 
In  about  an  hour  we  were  driving  smartly  down 
river  over  an  excellent  road.  We  chatted  of 
many  things,  but  I  got  no  information  concerning 
the  game.  Near  Joe's  house  was  a  huge  pasture, 
and  as  we  passed  this  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
stared  over  the  acres  of  close-cropped  grass. 

"  I  say  —  they're  there  —  I  sa-ay,  we'll  get  em !  " 
was  his  somewhat  startling  remark. 

I  didn't  see  anything,  and  ventured,  "  Get 
what?" 

"  G'lang ! "  said  he  to  the  team,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  we  pulled  up  at  the  gate,  where  one  of 
Joe's  sturdy  sons  took  charge  of  the  nags. 

"I  say  —  hustle  now — I  sa-ay  —  hustle!"  re- 
marked Joe,  as  he  darted  into  the  house  for  his 
outfit. 

In  brief  time  we  were  ready,  and  he  hurried 
along  the  road,  finally  halting  at  the  corner  of  the 
big  pasture. 

"  I  say  —  yonder  they  be  —  I  sa-ay,  yonder  they 
be  —  a  thousand  of  'em." 

I  looked  at  what  at  first  glance  appeared  to  be 
a  great,  deserted  pasture  dotted  with  queer-look- 
ing tufts  of  dried  weeds.  The  ground  was  bone 
dry,  so  I  knew  no  late  snipe  were  to  be  expected. 
Quail  would  not  remain  in  such  a  place  during 
the  hours  Joe  had  been  away,  and  I  could  think 


340  A  Golden  Opportunity 

of  nothing  else.  The  veteran  chuckled  in  his  own 
inimitable  manner,  and  whispered,  "  I  say,  them 
night  lights  in  York  must  be  bad  for  the  eyes  — 
I  sa-ay,  you  mole-eyed  fool,  don't  you  see  'em  ?  " 

An  instant  later  one  of  the  queer  tufts  of  weed 
nimbly  sprinted  for  a  few  yards,  then  halted  like 
a  soldier  at  "attention."  Then  mine  eyes  were 
opened,  and  I  saw  the  glorious  truth  —  that  every 
tuft  was  a  golden  plover  in  the  grayish  brown 
dress,  and  that  there  were  near  a  thousand  tufts. 

"I'll  surround  'em  —  you  do  your  best — I 
sa-ay,  do  your  best,"  and  away  he  crept  along 
the  fence  line.  It  was  a  long  way  to  the  next 
corner,  but  presently  I  made  him  out  as  he  stole 
down  the  opposite  side.  He  was  down  so  low, 
that,  were  it  not  for  the  speed  of  his  movements, 
I  could  have  sworn  he  was  actually  on  hands  and 
knees  —  but  this  style  of  creeping  was  one  of 
his  long  suits.  After  a  bit  he  vanished,  and  I 
guessed  he  was  "worming  it."  Then  I  noticed 
a  small  bunch  of  birds  trotting  away  from  his 
fence,  and  at  once  the  swiftly  planned  attack  was 
intelligible.  Then  a  double  cloud  of  smoke  belched 
from  a  panel  much  farther  along  than  I  fancied 
Joe  could  have  got,  and  a  string  of  trotting  birds 
keeled  over. 

There  followed  a  beautiful  sight.  Half  the 
surface  of  the  big  field  appeared  to  take  wing, 
and  a  moment  later  a  mighty  column  of  plover 


A  Golden  Opportunity  341 

was  boring  and  veering  two  hundred  yards  to 
my  left.  Would  they  go,  —  or  turn?  For  an 
agonizing  minute  things  looked  extremely  doubt- 
ful. The  big  flock  reminded  me  of  old  "  pigeon 
days,"  as  it  swept  low  over  the  farther  end  of  the 
field, — then  suddenly  it  rose  and,  veering  sharply, 
headed  directly  for  my  stand.  In  an  instant 
doubt  akin  to  despair  was  succeeded  by  keen 
excitement.  They  were  coming  like  the  wind. 
It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true,  and  it  was  impos- 
sible to  resist  the  inclination  to  open  the  gun  and 
make  sure  that  shells  were  in  place,  for  surely 
something  would  have  to  be  wrong  to  spoil  such 
a  chance. 

Then  came  the  roar  of  countless  wings,  and  a 
river  of  gray  speed  flowed  through  the  field  of 
blue.  To  the  centre  of  that  stream  of  life  was 
forty  yards,  and  its  height  was  some  twenty  yards 
above  the  grass.  I  was  almost  ashamed  to  shoot, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  shells  loaded  with  strong  butter 
should  have  done  something.  The  flock  looked 
to  be  fully  one  hundred  yards  long,  while  at  its 
head  and  at  another  point  a  short  distance  back, 
the  formation  presented  an  apparently  solid  mass. 
Naturally,  these  two  masses  caught  the  eye,  and 
at  them  the  "  twelve  "  hurled  its  fatal  message. 

The  result  was  —  shameful!     For  an   instant 
two  great  gaps  showed  in  the  stream  of  gray- 
then  I  understood  why  some  old  scientific  seer, 


A  Golden  Opportunity 

having  the  fear  of  this  day  in  his  heart,  had  be- 
stowed upon  this  bird  a  name  from  the  same  tap 
which  friend  Jupiter  Pluvius  still  occasionally 
turns  on.  The  opportunity  was,  indeed,  a  golden 
one,  and  to  be  candid,  it  fairly  rained  plover. 

To  slip  in  another  shell  and  clip  a  few  birds 
from  the  rearward  stragglers  was  easy  enough, 
then  I  watched  the  retreating  flock  till  it 
showed  dimly  gray  like  the  smoke  of  a  distant 
steamer. 

A  faint  "  Hi ! "  and  the  downward  sweeping  of 
Joe's  hat  warned  me  to  flatten  without  bothering 
about  the  cripples.  Glancing  again  in  the  direc- 
tion taken  by  the  flock,  I  saw  that  it  had  turned. 
I  had  not  thought  of  its  possible  return,  but 
there  it  was,  growing  more  distinct  every  mo- 
ment. Two  or  three  winged  birds  were  moving 
on  the  grass,  and  I  instantly  realized  their  value 
as  decoys,  and  also  something  else.  A  rapid 
crawl  of  about  fifty  yards  might  put  me  in  a 
much  better  position,  and  no  time  was  lost  in 
moving. 

As  the  flock  approached,  it  was  too  high  for 
effective  work,  but  at  precisely  the  right  moment 
a  wounded  bird  sprang  from  the  ground  and  fell 
back.  With  a  humming  rush  the  winged  army 
swooped  down  to  its  wounded.  The  first  shot 
sent  the  head  of  the  column  upward  again,  then 
the  second  barrel  raked  it  for  a  third  of  its  length. 


A  Golden  Opportunity 


343 


Plover  pattered  all  over  the  field,  while  the  sur- 
vivors swept  over  Joe.  Another  double  hail 
ripped  through  the  crowded  mass  and  scattered 
it  into  detached  bands,  which  sped  wildly  in  all 
directions.  Twice,  groups  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
dashed  past  my  stand  and  paid  full  toll,  and  I 
could  hear  Joe  hammering  away.  Then,  for  a 
few  moments,  some  bewildered  single  birds  gave 
chances  to  both  guns,  then  silence  fell  and  far 
away  a  dark  cloud  paled  and  vanished. 

It  was  some  twenty  minutes  before  the 
"powcher"  would  admit  that  there  was  no 
more  return  to  be  expected.  Then  we  set  to 
work  at  the  retrieving.  This  proved  no  easy 
task,  for  a  fall  plover  matches  short  brown  grass 
in  a  baffling  fashion.  Finally,  after  piling  to- 
gether all  birds  lying  within  a  certain  area,  we 
tramped  a  few  yards  apart,  to  and  fro  from  end 
to  end  of  the  field.  This  method  was  rewarded 
by  the  discovery  of  half  a  dozen  or  more  scat- 
tered birds.  The  total  bag  numbered  eighty- 
odd. 

The  birds  were  in  prime  condition,  and  it  was 
an  easy  task  to  arrange  them  in  small  lots.  The 
disposal  of  them  was  still  easier,  for  a  man 
troubled  with  too  much  choice  game  is  mighty 
apt  to  be,  for  the  moment,  the  most  popular  chap 
in  town. 

Upon  one  other  occasion  a  great  flock  of  plover 


344  A  Golden  Opportunity 

behaved  in  a  similar  manner,  but  as  the  condi- 
tions were  almost  identical,  the  one  description 
will  suffice.  These  two  days  were  by  far  the  best 
I  have  enjoyed  in  many  years  of  shooting.  A 
bag  of  from  eight  to  fifteen  would  be  nearer  the 
average  performance. 


FOREIGN   GAME 

While  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  at  any 
great  length  upon  the  various  game-birds  which 
have  been  introduced  by  sporting  clubs,  associa- 
tions, and  enterprising  private  individuals,  a  few 
remarks  may  not  be  out  of  order  in  concluding 
this  volume  on  American  upland  game-birds. 

In  the  first  place,  I  may  as  well  say  that,  in  my 
opinion,  most  of  the  money  lavished  upon  the 
importation  and  breeding  of  foreign  game  might 
be  better  spent  in  behalf  of  native  birds.  No 
country  in  the  world  has  finer  native  game  than 
this  continent  can  boast,  nor  is  there  any  foreign 
game-bird  able  to  truly  fill  the  place  of  any 
American  species. 

In  waterfowl,  nothing  of  which  I  have  any 
knowledge  can  surpass  our  swans,  geese,  and 
ducks,  while  in  the  matter  of  long-legged  game, 
from  cranes  to  the  least  of  shore-birds  we  are 
without  a  peer.  It  is  true  that  the  European 
woodcock  is  a  fine  bird,  twice  the  size  of  ours, 
but  no  man,  competent  to  pass  an  opinion  on  the 
sporting  and  edible  qualities  of  the  two  species, 
would  hesitate  over  awarding  the  palm  to  the 
smaller  candidate. 

345 


346  Foreign  Game 

Among  gallinaceous  game-birds,  Europe's  best 
include  the  capercailzie,  pheasant,  black-game, 
red  grouse,  and  the  partridge.  To  offset  these, 
we  have  the  turkey  and  the  many  grouse  and 
partridge  described  in  this  book.  No  sane  man 
would  for  one  moment  think  of  comparing  the 
turkey  with  the  capercailzie,  unless  he  wanted 
to  convince  the  big  grouse  that  comparisons 
truly  are  odious.  The  pheasant  we  already  have 
in  abundance,  while  the  question  of  our  ever 
being  able  to  establish  a  useful  stock  of  black- 
game  and  partridge  remains  an  open  one.  The 
red  grouse,  grand  fellow  that  he  is,  looks  like  an 
impossibility,  unless  we  prove  able  to  induce  the 
heather  of  his  beloved  moors  to  thrive  upon  some 
of  our  far  western  table-lands.  That  the  black- 
game,  red  grouse,  and  partridge  are  choice  and 
desirable  birds  goes  without  saying,  but  does  not 
imply  them  superior,  or  even  equal  to,  the  best 
of  our  natives.  So  long  as  brave  brown  Bob 
shall  continue  to  whir  from  bristling  stubble  to 
rustling  corn,  or  the  sheltering  glory  of  the  turn- 
ing leaf,  so  long  shall  the  British  partridge  have 
an  unconquerable  rival.  And  so  long  as  the 
breeze-bent  grasses  hide  the  eggs  of  "  chicken  " 
and  "  sharptail,"  so  long  must  the  quality  of  black- 
game,  and  even  the  red  grouse,  be  disputed. 

The  possibility  of  firmly  establishing  the  big 
capercailzie  remains  for  future  solution  —  possi- 


Foreign  Game  347 

bly  the  answer  may  be  furnished  in  the  affirma- 
tive by  New  England,  the  Canadian  maritime 
provinces,  Quebec,  or  some  portion  of  the  vast 
mountainous  regions  of  the  Pacific  side.  I  fail 
to  see  why  serious  effort  should  be  devoted  to 
the  attempt.  There  are  many  better  native  game- 
birds,  if  sport  be  the*  object,  for  the  best  the  accli- 
mated capercailzie  would  offer  would  be  a  mon- 
grel form  of  still  hunting  with  the  small  calibre 
rifle.  To  stalk  a  calling  bird  and  drop  him  from 
his  perch  doubtless  would  be  a  mildly  interesting 
feat  for  the  first  few  attempts,  but  I  utterly  fail  to 
perceive  how  it  could  permanently  rival  turkey- 
tracking  or  even  turkey-calling. 

The  one  imported  bird  now  firmly  established 
and  entitled  to  a  place  among  American  upland 
game  is  the  pheasant.  While  we  have  many 
breeders  of  pheasants,  such  as  the  golden,  silver, 
Amherst,  and  other  beautiful  species,  the  bird  in 
which  sportsmen  are  most  interested  is  the  Mon- 
golian, or  ringneck,  Phasianus  torquatus.  This 
is  a  large  and  exceedingly  handsome  bird,  hardy 
enough  to  thrive  almost  anywhere  in  the  forested 
regions  of  the  United  States;  but  judged  from  the 
sporting  point  of  view,  it  is  greatly  inferior  to  the 
best  of  our  grouse. 

Some  twenty  odd  years  ago  the  first  of  the 
ringnecks  and  other  Chinese  pheasants  were 
imported.  The  Hon.  O.  N.  Denny,  then  the 


348  Foreign  Game 

United  States  Consul-General  at  Shanghai,  was 
prominent  among  the  sportsmen  interested  in 
the  Americanizing  of  the  long-tailed  Mongolians. 
The  first  lot  of  birds,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remem- 
ber, numbered  about  fifty  pairs.  In  this  lot  were 
half  a  dozen  species  —  the  ringneck,  the  green 
Japanese,  the  copper,  the  Tragopan,  the  silver, 
and  the  golden.  The  birds  were  controlled  by 
the  old  Multnomah  Rod  and  Gun  Club,  and  were 
placed  on  Protection  Island  in  Puget  Sound.  A 
game-keeper  had  charge  of  the  pheasantry,  and 
later,  when  the  club  ceased  to  exist,  he  paid  him- 
self arrears  of  wages  by  leasing  the  pheasant- 
shooting  to  some  western  men.  The  birds,  how- 
ever, thrived,  and  their  descendants  are  plentiful 
to-day.  Later  Judge  Denny  sent  a  shipment  of 
ringnecks,  and  these  birds  were  turned  over  to  a 
number  of  Oregon  farmers,  who  gave  the  new 
arrivals  a  proper  chance.  As  a  result  Oregon, 
west  of  the  Cascade  range,  has  pheasants  in 
abundance,  and  there  are  plenty  of  the  birds  at 
other  points  from  Vancouver  Island  southward. 
They  are  as  hardy  as  the  native  grouse,  thrive 
upon  the  same  food,  and  furnish  very  fair  sport. 
The  worst  feature  about  them  is  their  love  of 
sprinting.  For  all-round  running  ability,  the 
Mongolian  pheasant  is  no  mean  rival  of  a  trout 
brook  in  fine  condition.  He  eats  a  considerable 
quantity  of  grain  too ;  but  for  this  he  more  than 


7oreign  Game  349 

pays  by  destroying  great  numbers  of  noxious 
insects. 

My  somewhat  limited  acquaintance  with  this 
pheasant  has  not  fostered  a  very  high  opinion  of 
its  value  as  a  purely  sporting  bird.  Beautiful  the 
Mongolians  are  and  excellent  eating  too,  but  their 
footwork  is  exasperating,  and  not  at  all  calculated 
.to  improve  a  good  dog.  When  a  pheasant  rises 
within  easy  range,  the  flush  is  marked  by  a  char- 
acteristic whirr  and  a  cackling  cry.  The  flight 
is  strong  and  fairly  fast.  A  bird  going  straight 
away  is  an  easy  mark,  but  a  right  or  left  quar- 
terer  at  top  speed  is  quite  another  proposition, 
especially  when  forty  or  fifty  yards  away.  The 
combination  of  speed  and  long  tail  is  very  apt  to 
puzzle  a  novice,  who  almost  invariably  misses 
through  shooting  behind. 

A  good  performer  on  pinnated,  or  sharptail 
grouse,  will  speedily  acquire  the  knack  of  pheas- 
ant-shooting. Such  a  man  will  not  underestimate 
distance,  or  fail  to  swing  his  gun  well  ahead,  and 
he  will  score  well  ori  pheasants  after  a  few  trials. 

The  first  specimen  to  fall  to  my  skill  was,  I 
grieve  to  state,  an  illegal  quarry.  The  then  new 
birds  were  carefully  protected  at  all  times,  and  I 
certainly  had  no  idea  of  violating  the  law,  in  fact, 
I  had  no  gun,  but  was  merely  out  for  a  stroll.  A 
strange  bird  ran  across  the  path  and  into  some 
brush,  and  I  picked  up  a  stone  and  started  to  in- 


35°  Foreign  Game 

vestigate.  When  the  bird  flushed  and  the  light 
shone  fairly  on  the  plumage,  I  so  greatly  admired 
it  that  the  stone  struck  exactly  in  the  centre  of 
that  beautiful  pheasant's  back.  It  was  a  great 
chance  shot,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  jubila- 
tion. 

Then  came  a  nasty  realization  that  this  particu- 
lar bird  and  all  of  its  kin  were  protected  by  a  law 
which  carried  a  penalty  about  as  long  as  the 
wonderful  throw.  However,  there  was  the  dead 
pheasant,  a  particularly  fine  one  too,  and  there  I 
was,  looking  at  it,  and,  incidentally,  looking  to  see 
if  anybody  else  was  looking. 

Presumably  a  God-fearing,  law-abiding  citizen 
would  have  gone  in  and  informed  on  himself,  and 
got  fined,  or  jailed,  to  the  value  of  fifty  odd  dollars. 
I  didn't.  Instead,  I  sneaked  the  bird  into  the 
brush  and  carefully  removed  and  folded  the  skin ; 
then,  with  the  body  in  a  pocket  and  the  skin 
inside  my  vest,  I  strode  in  righteousness  through 
the  land,  keeping  wide  of  bird-dogs  and  convers- 
ing with  no  man  till  my  room  was  reached.  A 
trifle  of  arsenic  from  the  druggist's  cured  the  skin, 
then  I  fared  kitchenward  and  had  the  body  cooked. 
It  was  by  no  means  bad  —  that  is,  for  a  skinned 
bird. 

That  there  will  come  a  time  when  our  landed 
gentry  will  have  their  pheasant-shooting  after  the 
English  fashion  —  keepers,  beaters,  and  all  —  is 


Foreign  Game  351 

more  than  probable.  John  Bull  knows  better 
than  any  other  man  how  to  get  the  best  possible 
sport  out  of  the  smallest  of  areas.  He  has  long 
made  a  study  of  the  pheasant,  and  has  thoroughly 
mastered  the  problem  of  its  rearing,  guarding,  and 
shooting.  He  has  moulded  a  foreign  bird  to  his 
purpose  until  it  fits  the  conditions  like  a  native, 
and  in  so  doing  he  has  changed  what  once  was  a 
mere  addition  to  a  somewhat  abbreviated  game- 
list,  into  one  of  its  most  important  items.  When 
the  time  arrives,  as  it  eventually  must,  when  cer- 
tain portions  of  this  country  will  bear  no  distant 
resemblance  to  the  older  land,  the  pheasant  in  all 
probability  will  attain  a  prominence  and  impor- 
tance like  that  accorded  it  in  its  island  stronghold 
oversea. 

Until  quite  recently  there  was  a  marked  ten- 
dency upon  our  side  to  sneer  at  British  shooting, 
especially  pheasant-shooting.  Unthinking  and 
ignorant  persons  appeared  to  labor  under  the 
delusion  that  British  game  was  something  in  the 
line  of  stall-fed,  quarry-tame,  hand-reared  crea- 
tures, purposely  kept  fat  and  easy  in  order  that 
Lord  This  and  Sir  That  might  kill  long  strings 
without  a  miss  and  with  the  least  possible  trouble 
to  their  high-bred  selves.  The  utter  absurdity  of 
such  a  notion  will  be  abruptly  revealed  to  the 
average  American  sportsman  whenever  he  may 
decide  to  try  a  bit  of  British  sport.  Unless  he  be 


352  Foreign  Game 

an  exceptionally  good  shot,  he  will  experience  no 
difficulty  in  finding  men  quite  capable  of  taking 
his  measure  either  at  the  traps  or  in  the  field. 
While  the  best  all-around  shots  I  have  ever  seen 
certainly  have  been  American  professionals  and 
market-hunters,  some  of  the  deadliest  performers 
in  the  field  here,  or  anywhere,  are  British  ama- 
teurs who  learned  their  art  in  the  school  of  the 
pheasant,  red  grouse,  partridge,  cock,  and  snipe. 

It  has  been  my  pleasant  task  to  introduce 
more  than  a  few  Britons  to  the  joys  of  Bob-white 
shooting,  and  I  frankly  admit  that  some  of  those 
same  "  raw  'uns  "  tied  my  stockings  a  leetle  tighter 
than  was  good  for  the  circulation.  Furthermore, 
the  real  British  sportsman  is  a  glutton  for  hard 
work,  a  walker  from  Walkerville,  and,  usually, 
both  a  good  judge  and  handler  of  dogs. 


THE   CRANES 

THE     WHOOPING     CRANE 
(Grus  americana) 

Only  those  who  have  shot  in  the  Northwest, 
West,  and  Southwest  would  be  apt  to  rank  this 
and  the  following  species  as  game-birds.  To  the 
majority  of  eastern  sportsmen,  the  name  crane 
suggests  a  long-legged,  wading,  fish  and  frog 
eating,  haunter  of  marshes,  streams,  and  ponds, 
and  about  the  last  sort  of  bird  a  man  would  care 
to  eat.  All  that  might  be  true  enough  of  herons, 
but  it  by  no  means  applies  to  the  rather  similar 
appearing,  but  really  very  different,  cranes. 

The  present  species,  the  whooping  crane,  is  not 
only  a  game-bird  in  every  sense  of  that  term,  but 
he  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  all  game-birds 
to  get  the  better  of.  Indeed,  the  Canada  goose, 
wild  turkey,  whooping  crane,  and  his  cousin,  the 
sand-hill  crane,  are  all  capable  of  thoroughly  test- 
ing the  skill  and  resource  of  the  craftiest  of 
sportsmen. 

A  big  swan,  elevated  upon  very  long  legs,  and 
equipped  with  a  bill  like  a  bronze  dagger,  would 
roughly  resemble  this  stately  bird  as  he  towers 
above  the  prairie  grasses.  The  head  of  a  full- 

353 


354  The  Cranes 

grown  crane,  standing  erect,  is  nearly  five  feet 
above  his  toes ;  and  from  that  elevation  his  mar- 
vellously keen  golden  eyes  can  note  every  move- 
ment of  a  prowling  foe,  near  or  remote.  Many  a 
time  have  I  taken  a  long-range  rifle  and  attempted 
to  wriggle  over  the  grass  to  something  like  a 
reasonably  sure  range,  only  to  fail.  At  five  hun- 
dred yards  the  crane  might  appear  carelessly 
indifferent ;  at  about  four  hundred  his  lean  head 
would  rise  and  remain  pointing  like  a  weather- 
vane  until  he  decided  to  vacate  the  territory, 
which  usually  happened  when  the  rifle  was  yet 
three  hundred  yards  distant.  There  are  men,  I 
presume,  who  would  pierce  a  crane's  eye  at  such 
paltry  distances,  but  our  paths  have  not  happened 
to  cross. 

I  have  yet  to  see  a  man  stalk  this  bird  and 
kill  him  fairly.  The  nearest  ever  I  came  to  it 
was  on  a  Northwest  prairie.  A  friend  was  driving 
me  out  to  some  "  chicken "  country  when  we 
spied  a  pair  of  crane  rising  like  lighthouses,  white 
and  tall,  above  the  sea  of  grass.  I  suggested  that 
we  edge  in  their  direction,  then  whirl  dead  on 
and  gallop  for  it  down  what  wind  there  was.  He 
looked  at  me  in  a  peculiar  way,  grinned  signifi- 
cantly, and  remarked,  "  You  old  goose  —  shooter !  " 
adding  the  word  "  shooter  "  after  as  long  a  pause 
as  he  deemed  polite. 

Something  in  his  manner  kept  me  from  insist- 


The  IV hooping  Crane  355 

ing,  but  presently  I  thought  of  something  else. 
Under  the  seat  lay  a  big  repeating  rifle,  and  I 
suggested  that  he  should  walk  the  team  steadily 
ahead  while  I  slipped  out  with  the  rifle-case  and 
tried  my  hand  at  creeping. 

"  All  right ;  but  I  bet  the  dinner  you  fail,"  he 
replied,  and  out  I  went. 

To  get  ready  without  making  any  conspicuous 
movements  while  lying  flat  in  short  grass  is  not 
the  easiest  of  tasks,  but  finally  I  managed  it  in  a 
style  which  appeared  to  be  satisfactory.  In  any 
event  the  big  birds  stood  as  motionless  as  a 
couple  of  trees,  and  the  creeping  began.  After 
wriggling  along  for  some  fifty  yards  the  under- 
taking began  to  look  promising.  Then  a  dis- 
tant voice  sang  out:  "When  they  turn  up-wind, 
they're  going  to  fly,"  and  I  heeded  it,  for  the 
speaker  was  a  veteran  plainsman  and  a  master 
of  bird  craft. 

The  cranes  were  standing  about  five  yards 
apart,  but  as  I  wormed  along  one  bird  moved 
two  paces  nearer  its  fellow  and  turned,  facing  the 
breeze.  This  movement  brought  its  back  toward 
me,  while  the  other  bird  was  standing  broadside 
on.  I  felt  that  it  might  turn  at  any  moment,  and 
that  the  next  moment  both  would  take  wing,  so  a 
shot  was  decided  upon.  Lying  flat,  with  a  dead 
elbow-rest,  I  drew  a  bead  on  the  centre  of  the 
snowy  body.  The  rifle  never  quivered,  and  at 


356  Tbe  Cranes 

the  report  one  bird  leaped  into  the  air  and  made 
off  on  great  waving  fans  of  snow  and  ebony. 

But  the  other  ?  Ah !  the  poor  other  —  he  lay 
like  the  last  snows  of  winter  —  a  mere  drift  of 
white  against  the  bronzy  grass. 

With  a  yell  of  delight  the  driver  whirled  his 
ponies  and  rattled  over  to  the  crane,  which  he 
presently  brought  back  in  triumph.  I  still  lay  in 
the  grass,  thinking  things.  And  this  was  the  cele- 
brated crane  which  no  man  could  stalk — the  wary 
white  sentinel  of  the  grassy  sea  —  the  unapproach- 
able, spotless  warden  of  the  honor  of  the  North  ? 
And  I,  a  tenderfoot,  had  slain  it  first  throw  out 
of  the  box !  It  was  absolutely  bewildering. 

"  Get  up  out  of  that !  What's  the  matter  — did 
she  kick?  "  shouted  my  driver;  but  I  merely  rolled 
over  and  looked  earnestly  and  sorrowfully  at  the 
beautiful  bird. 

"  You're  a  wonder !  But,  say,  why  didn't  you 
hold  on  the  other  —  he  was  broadside  to  you  ?  " 
he  continued. 

To  me  the  glory  of  the  sunshine  had  paled  to 
a  funereal  gray,  but  I  had  to  answer,  and  the 
answer  was  —  "  Dammit,  I  did!  " 

His  yell  of  laughter  almost  sent  the  ponies  up 
in  the  air,  but  there  was  a  second  barrel  coming. 
He  took  one  glance  at  the  rifle,  then  leaped  out 
and  lay  down  to  safely  enjoy  himself.  Reader, 
I'm  ashamed  to  speak  about  that  rear  sight !  I 


The  Wbooping  Crane  357 

had  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  aimed  with  it  just 
as  it  was.  He  refused  to  say  where  it  was,  but 
from  the  roasting  I  got,  I  suspect  it  was  some- 
where about  140  in  the  shade ! 

Another  remarkable  shot  may  be  briefly  referred 
to.  It  is  the  habit  of  the  whooping  cranes,  when 
ready  to  begin  the  southward  flight,  to  rise  in 
mighty  spirals  into  the  upper  air  and  there  float 
about,  frequently  in  considerable  numbers.  Some- 
times the  birds  rise  so  high  that  they  are  lost  to 
view,  and  only  their  trumpeting  tells  where  they 
are.  Again,  they  will  keep  lower,  so  that  their 
wheeling,  floating  flight  is  plainly  visible;  and, 
occasionally,  but  not  as  a  rule,  they  will  wheel 
overhead  within  long  rifle-shot. 

One  day,  with  a  friend,  I  was  lying  in  the  grass 
beside  a  Manitoba  lake,  the  resort  of  many  ducks. 
It  was  a  warm,  still  day,  with  the  wonderful  north- 
ern sunshine  at  its  best.  We  knew  that  great 
rafts  of  ducks  and  many  geese  surely  would  come 
to  the  lake  toward  nightfall,  but  for  the  time  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  lounge  at  ease  upon  dry 
grass.  We  had  with  us  two  guns  and  a  repeat- 
ing rifle,  the  latter  for  a  possible  chance  at  crane. 

That  chance  came,  but  in  a  totally  unexpected 
manner.  As  we  lay,  we  heard  the  clatter  of  the 
giant  birds  from  the  nor'ard,  and  eventually  a 
large  flock  came  drifting  in  airy  spirals  directly 
over  us.  There  were  birds  at  various  heights  — 


358  The  Cranes 

some  perhaps  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards 
above  our  heads,  others  so  high  that  they  seemed 
no  larger  than  gulls.  All  were  floating  and 
wheeling,  and  their  circling  courses  blended  and 
cut  into  each  other  in  a  manner  truly  bewilder- 
ing. Fully  half  of  the  birds  appeared  to  be  shout- 
ing at  the  other  half,  and,  taken  altogether,  the 
sight  was  most  interesting. 

After  we  had  watched  them  for  some  time,  my 
comrade  remarked,  "What  are  we  two  duffers 
dreaming  about  ? "  As  he  spoke  he  seized  the 
rifle,  pointed  it  at  the  flock,  fired,  and  at  once 
handed  it  over  to  me.  We  lay  upon  our  backs 
side  by  side,  and  all  I  did  was  to  rest  the  butt  of 
the  piece  on  the  ground  beside  me,  glance  along 
the  barrel,  fire,  and  pass  the  rifle  back.  He  took 
another  shot,  then  something  happened.  I  fired 
in  the  same  careless  fashion,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
passing  back  the  rifle,  when  we  heard  a  distinct 
"  whop  !  "  from  above. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,  you  got  one  —  and  here 
he  comes  !  "  roared  my  friend. 

It  was  true  enough.  That  storied  chance  shot 

had  killed  the or  rather  the  crane,  and  he  was 

coming  like  a  small  avalanche  of  snowy  plumage. 
He  fell  in  the  alkali  water  a  few  yards  from  the 
mud,  and  after  considerable  trouble  I  managed  to 
get  him  out  without  going  too  deeply  into  the 
Crown  Lands  Department.  The  ball  had  struck 


The  Sand- bill  Crane  359 

him  squarely  in  the  heart,  and  needless  to  say  he 
was  as  dead  as  stale  beer. 

The  cream  of  the  sport  with  both  species  of 
crane  is  to  be  enjoyed  on  the  Pacific  side  and  far 
to  the  southward,  but  not  infrequently  the  sand-hill 
crane  furnishes  excellent  sport  at  many  points  in 
the  "  corn  belt "  of  the  western  states. 

THE    SAND-HILL   CRANE 
(Grus  canadensis) 

Much  smaller  than  his  stately  white  relative, 
this  crane  is  possessed  of  his  full  share  of  grace, 
beauty,  and  distrust  of  white  man's  medicine. 
The  male  in  perfect  plumage  is  a  symphony  in 
gray  —  in  fact,  he  is  a  well-dressed  gentleman, 
whose  every  movement  is  indicative  of  self-pos- 
session and  cold  reserve.  And  those  desirous  of 
cultivating  his  close  acquaintance  will  find  their 
path  beset  by  difficulties.  While  considerably 
shorter  than  the  white  fellow,  his  eye  is  fully 
as  keen  and  his  lean  head  quite  as  full  of  wisdom. 
In  good  condition,  he  is  excellent  eating,  his  chief 
diet,  like  that  of  his  family,  being  tender  green 
stuff  and  ripe  grain. 

The  shooting  of  this  bird,  as  followed  in  the 
West  and  Southwest,  so  closely  resembles  wild- 
goose  shooting,  that  a  description  of  one  might 
serve  for  both.  The  prime  requisites  are  to  get 
into  the  line  of  flight  and  to  conceal  oneself  in  the 


360  Tbe  Cranes 

most  natural-looking  "  hide  "  and  remain  motion- 
less and  watchful.  "  Get  down  and  keep  still  "  is 
the  very  best  advice  I  can  give  to  crane  or  goose 
shooter.  Be  the  "  hide  "  a  hogshead  or  a  pit  in 
the  ground,  or  a  small  screen  of  grass  or  weeds, 
natural  or  artificial,  the  only  way  to  get  the  best 
results  is  to  keep  covered  and  wait  till  the  sound  of 
wings  or  the  clatter  of  cries  tells  that  the  game 
is  almost  directly  overhead.  It  cannot  be  too 
near,  for  the  nearer  it  is  allowed  to  approach  the 
more  time  will  there  be  for  the  gun  to  get  into 
deadly  action. 

The  crane-shooter  should  remember  that  such 
large  birds  appear  to  be  much  nearer  than  they 
really  are,  and  also  that  they  have  wonderfully 
sharp  eyes.  The  slightest  movement  is  apt  to 
be  at  once  noticed,  whereupon  the  birds  immedi- 
ately sheer  off,  and  what  should  have  been  a 
golden  opportunity  is  promptly  and  permanently 
ruined.  The  novice,  and  not  unfrequently  the 
veteran,  finds  it  a  hard  task  to  keep  still,  es- 
pecially when  a  large  flock  is  bearing  down  upon 
the  ambush  and  calling  as  only  cranes  can.  The 
ringing  kor-r-r-r-r-root,  pouring  from  their  throats, 
thrills  like  the  blare  of  many  trumpets.  It  is 
a  veritable  call  to  arms,  yet  the  wise  man  listens 
and  grins,  and  waits  with  his  nose  almost  driven 
into  the  ground,  until  the  clamor  falls  from 
directly  above  and  he  can  distinctly  hear  the 


The  Sand- bill  Crane  361 

wiff-wiff  of  broad  feathery  fans.  When  he  does 
move,  it  is  with  the  smooth,  rubbery  celerity  of  a 
serpent  working  overtime,  and  he  finds  himself 
almost  mixed  up  with  a  terrified,  flapping  host, 
out  of  which  he  ought  to  get  enough  to  ease  the 
strain  for  the  time  being. 

Possibly  a  bird  may  be  winged,  and,  if  so,  give 
it  another  charge  as  it  goes  trotting  away.  A 
winged  crane  can  run  at  a  very  fair  rate,  and 
any  attempt  at  chasing  it  may  mean  the  scaring 
off  of  other  approaching  flocks ;  besides,  it  is  only 
humane  and  sportsmanlike  to  speedily  end  the 
suffering  of  a  maimed  victim.  Hence,  wisdom 
and  humanity  both  plead  for  a  prompt  settlement 
of  the  matter,  and  their  plea  is  backed  by  another 
excellent  reason.  This  one  projects  from  the 
bird's  face  for  several  inches,  and  each  inch  feels 
like  a  foot  when  the  dagger-like  affair  happens 
to  encounter  an  outstretched  hand.  On  account 
of  his  armament,  I  never  voluntarily  stoop  over 
a  wounded  crane,  for  one  of  his  unerring  jabs 
may  mean  the  loss  of  an  eye,  or,  if  the  man  be 
lucky,  merely  a  nasty  cut  in  the  face.  All  the 
wounded  cranes  I  have  seen  were  game  to  the 
last,  and  apparently  all  ready  for  a  trifle  of  rapier- 
play  with  any  antagonist.  Upon  one  occasion, 
an  enthusiastic  spaniel,  with  more  zeal  than  judg- 
ment, twisted  himself  free  of  his  collar  and  broke 
away  to  show  what  he  could  do  in  the  way  of 


362  The  Cranes 

retrieving.  The  subsequent  yelping  was  entirely 
too  long  for  insertion  here,  but  the  spaniel  might 
have  won  in  the  double-nose  class  any  time  after. 
Only  a  second-class  tailor  with  the  usual  note 
coming  due  at  the  bank  can  send  in  his  bill  with 
an  equally  deadly  and  exasperating  accuracy,  at 
least  so  I've  been  told. 

While  I  have  shot  a  few  sand-hills  at  various 
points  and  found  the  sport  very  fair,  the  taking  of 
the  first  specimen  is  the  best-remembered  ex- 
perience. The  scene  of  action  was  in  western 
Ontario  and  the  bird  in  question  presumably  was 
a  stray,  for  he  was  two  dozen  miles,  or  more,  from 
the  nearest  resort  of  a  few  of  his  kin. 

In  the  centre  of  a  pasture  lay  a  peculiar  pond 
of  a  couple  of  acres  in  extent.  All  about  the 
pasture  rose  high  wheat  and  corn  lands,  while 
near  by  ran  a  fair-sized  river.  Beyond  question, 
the  pond  had  once  been  the  bed  of  the  river, 
which  had  cut  a  new  channel  and  left  the  pond 
to  gradually  dry  up.  At  the  time  referred  to,  the 
water  in  the  pond  was  about  two  feet  deep  at 
the  deepest  part,  elsewhere  it  was  little  more  than 
a  bog  choked  with  lily  pads  and  bordered  with 
rice.  At  one  end  stood  a  clump  of  willows. 
Ducks  of  various  kinds,  the  most  numerous  being 
the  beautiful  wood-duck,  were  in  the  habit  of 
dropping  into  the  pond  about  sundown,  and  a 
man  concealed  among  the  willows  frequently 


The  Sand-hill  Crane  363 

could  enjoy  a  fairish  bit  of  sport.  The  willows 
afforded  the  only  "hide,"  and  by  the  unwritten 
law,  the  first  man  on  the  spot  had  the  right  to 
that  evening's  flight.  For  this  reason,  on  the 
day  in  question,  I  was  in  possession  about  mid- 
afternoon,  and  prepared  to  wait  till  dusk. 

The  waiting  was  lazy  work,  but  my  cogitations 
were  interrupted  by  a  big  shadow  drifting  across. 
To  leap  to  feet  and  seize  the  gun  was  the  natural 
impulse,  and  I  snapped  at  a  great  bird  which  was 
swinging  directly  into  the  blinding  glare  of  an 
unclouded  sun.  For  a  few  seconds  eyes  were  use- 
less, then  something  fell  about  the  centre  of  the 
pond.  At  first  glance  I  mistook  it  for  the  com- 
mon great  blue  heron,  then  rose  the  unmistakable 
head  and  neck  of  a  sand-hill.  This  was  an  impor- 
tant discovery,  and  the  next  question  was  how  to 
secure  the  prize.  I  knew  the  crane  was  winged, 
and  its  lying  where  it  fell  suggested  tliat  a  leg  also 
had  been  put  out  of  business,  which  later  proved 
to  be  the  case. 

But  how  to  get  him  out  was  the  question. 
There  was  an  unknown  depth  of  mud  at  the 
bottom  of  that  pond,  and  parts  of  it  would  heave 
and  quake  in  a  nasty  way.  To  attempt  to  swim 
was  entirely  out  of  the  question,  for  a  man  once 
down  in  that  mess  would  stand  a  brilliant  chance 
of  stopping  there.  Finally  I  decided  to  reef  up 
trousers  to  the  fork,  to  remove  boots  and  socks, 


364  The  Cranes 

lay  the  socks  aside,  and  replace  the  boots  on  bare 
feet  to  protect  them  while  wading.  When  the 
boots  were  tightly  laced  to  keep  out  the  mud,  all 
preparations  were  completed,  but  I  suspect  that 
the  ensemble  was  highly  suggestive  of  an  over- 
grown specimen  of  Grus. 

Those  who  have  tackled  a  quaking  bog  will 
understand  what  a  portion  of  this  task  was  like. 
At  first  there  was  only  mud,  —  black,  greasy  mud, 
—  of  any  depth  you  please,  but  that  mattered  little. 
There  is  a  way,  getting  a  lot  of  grass,  rice,  or 
other  stuff  under  your  feet,  and  moving  at  a 
steady  pace,  which  enables  one  to  defy  mere  mud. 
A  bit  farther  in,  however,  it  was  different.  The 
whole  business  began  to  sway  and  heave  till  it 
rolled  in  slimy  waves.  Then  came  the  full  reali- 
zation of  what  a  stumble  or  error  in  putting  down 
a  foot  might  mean,  and  I  heartily  cursed  the  crane 
for  having  fallen  in  such  a  place. 

At  last  I  neared  him,  and  something  in  the 
gleam  of  his  steadfast  eye  suggested  caution. 
The  filthy  water  was  within  about  four  inches  of 
the  uprolled  trousers,  and  I  was  slowly  sinking. 
To  bend  over  the  bird  was  too  risky.  A  jab  for 
an  eye  would  have  been  the  certain  penalty,  and 
that  would  almost  as  certainly  have  meant  a  back- 
ward lurch  and  a  possible  loss  of  balance  and  gen- 
eral mix  up,  too  horrible  to  contemplate.  To  edge 
a  bit  closer  and  provoke  a  strike  at  my  hand 


The  Sand-hill  Crane  365 

seemed  the  best  policy,  for  the  sinking  process 
was  steadily  going  on.  So  I  edged  nearer. 

That  infernal  crane  must  have  read  Haggard's 
yarn  of  Good  and  his  beautiful  white  legs,  for  he 
appeared  to  recognize  the  last  visible  inch  of 
white,  on  which  he  promptly  scored.  The  touch 
of  his  dagger  was  the  most  thrilling  thing  so  far, 
but  the  stroke  fully  extended  his  long  neck,  which 
was  promptly  gripped.  Had  I  been  six  inches 
nearer,  his  blow  might  have  bored  a  hole  an  inch 
or  so  deeper ;  as  it  was  the  red  ink  and  the  black 
were  mixing  freely.  My  personal  comments  on 
cranes  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  and 
swamps  from  the  Flood  downward,  need  not  be 
dwelt  upon.  Only  the  man  holding  an  unchokable 
sand-hill  crane  by  the  neck,  having  a  freshly  bored 
hole  in  his  leg,  and  standing  upon  an  acre  or  so  of 
poultice  made  out  of  black  bread  and  just  begin- 
ning to  draw,  will  ever  be  able  to  understand. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet.  The  return  had  to 
be  made  with  due  caution,  and  every  now  and 
then  the  crane  would  grab  something  with  his 
sound  foot  and  beat  with  his  wings  till  the  storm- 
centre  looked  like  a  mud  volcano.  To  pick  one's 
steps  under  such  conditions  is  not  so  easy  as  writ- 
ing about  it.  At  last,  when  fairly  firm  footing 
was  only  a  couple  of  yards  away,  one  bare  shin 
encountered  something  which  felt  like  "shell- 
burred  cable."  The  very  touch  of  it  produced  an 


366  The  Cranes 

involuntary  creepy  feeling;  but  when  that  cable 
moved,  as  it  presently  and  distinctly  did,  the  creepy 
feeling  flashed  into  the  had  been.  In  its  stead 
surged  up  a  sprinty,  a  get-to-shore-p-d-q  sort  of  a 
sensation  which  carried  me  to  terra  firma  in  three 
astounding  prances.  Hence,  it  is  possible  to 
traverse  quaking  bog,  if  one's  speed  be  sufficient. 
Still,  I  had  my  bird,  and  upon  turning  to  look  at 
the  few  spots  I  had  touched  during  the  final  spurt, 
there  was  a  shiny  black  head,  a  wicked-looking 
eye,  and  a  goodly  length  of  animated  garden-hose, 
to  remind  me  that  the  pond  was  a  favorite  haunt 
of  a  lusty  breed  of  black  snake. 

The  next  thing  to  do  was  to  quote  a  few 
stanzas  from  "  The  Hanging  of  the  Crane,"  in- 
serting the  more  expressive  word  for  the  ladylike 
"hanging."  Then  the  prize  was  carefully  killed 
and  hung  on  the  weeping- willow  tree,  while  I 
sought  the  river  for  a  very  necessary  house-clean- 
ing. I  was  a  bit  anxious  about  the  wound  in  the 
leg,  for  I  suspected  that  the  swamp  matter  might 
cause  trouble  later.  However,  a  thorough  wash- 
ing and  squeezing,  a  plugging  with  tobacco,  held 
fast  by  a  good  long  bandage  from  the  only  place 
where  such  long  bandages  grow  on  a  man,  served 
for  temporary  treatment,  and,  although  the  wound 
was  sore  for  a  time,  it  caused  no  serious  trouble. 


THE   MOURNING   DOVE 

(Zenaidura  macroura) 

Adult  male  and  female  —  Entire  upper  parts,  olive-brown,  varying  to 
a  bluish  gray ;  sides  and  back  of  neck,  iridescent ;  breast,  with 
a  pinkish  tinge;  belly,  buff;  tail,  long,  pointed,  the  outer 
edges  conspicuously  tipped  with  white;  bill,  black;  legs  and 
feet,  lake-red.  Length  about  12  inches.  Range,  from  southern 
Maine,  southern  Canada,  and  Oregon,  south  to  Panama  and  the 
West  Indies. 

This  beautiful  and  common  bird  arrives  in  the 
latitude  of  New  York  in  March  and  remains  until 
November.  It  is  a  swift,  strong  flier,  passing  with 
a  whistling  sound  which  distinguishes  it  from  all 
other  northern  birds.  The  cry  of  this  bird,  from 
which  it  derives  its  name,  is  doleful  indeed.  No 
bereaved  creature,  wailing  o'er  its  dead,  could  utter 
a  sadder  or  more  pleading  appeal  than  the  long- 
drawn  "  Coo-ah  —  coo-coocoo?  which  this  dainty 
fraud  sends  floating  through  the  soft  April  air. 
I  have  listened  to  the  dove  of  an  evening,  for  the 
cry  is  more  potent  when  the  shadows  begin  to 
creep,  until  the  small  wretch  has  fostered  a  fit  of 
the  dismals  which  demanded  a  brisk  walk  as  the 
best  remedy. 

But  mourn  he  ever  so  hopelessly,  he  means  not 
a  word  of  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  telling  the 

367 


368  The  Mourning  Dove 

object  of  his  affections  his  own  cute  version  of 
that  same  old  lie  which  has  made  all  sorts  of 
doves  perform  all  sorts  of  foolish  capers  ever  since 
the  original  lover  hammered  his  sentiments  on  a 
chunk  of  rock  and  left  it  where  his  barefooted  lady 
could  strike  it  and  get  stone-bruise  or  heart-bruise 
as  the  case  happened  to  pan  out. 

The  nest  of  the  dove  is  one  of  the  crudest 
examples  of  bird  architecture  that  can  well  be 
imagined.  It  consists  of  a  few  twigs,  carelessly 
arranged,  and  so  loose  in  structure  that  the  two 
white  eggs  are  easily  visible  through  the  bottom 
of  the  affair.  In  the  plains  country,  the  nest  is 
placed  upon  the  ground,  but  in  the  forested 
regions,  some  low,  flat  branch  bears  the  burden. 
A  fir  tree  in  some  park  or  garden  is  a  favorite 
site,  presumably  because  one  of  its  flat  branches 
requires  fewer  sticks  to  serve  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing the  eggs  together,  and  where  the  birds  can 
warm  them  for  the  necessary  time.  Yet,  with  all 
their  carelessness  about  the  building  of  the  house, 
the  doves  are  devoted  parents,  the  female  fre- 
quently feigning  lameness  to  the  risk  of  capture 
while  endeavoring  to  draw  a  too  prying  investi- 
gator away  from  her  helpless  squabs.  The  young 
are  fed,  like  young  domestic  pigeons,  on  softened 
food  regurgitated  from  the  parent's  crop.  Like 
the  domestic  pigeon,  too,  the  dove  is  a  great 
drinker,  thrusting  the  bill  into  the  water  and 


The  Mourning  Dove  369 

gulping  it  down  as  though  in  a  desperate 
hurry. 

The  flesh  of  the  mourning,  or  Carolina,  dove 
when  in  good  condition  is  exceedingly  palatable, 
which  causes  the  bird  to  be  eagerly  pursued  in 
certain  parts  of  the  country,  notably  the  South. 
There,  dove-shooting  is  a  popular  sport,  and  a 
green  hand  at  it  will  find  the  swift  fliers  anything 
but  easy  marks.  I  have  done  but  little  of  it,  and 
that  mostly  in  the  North,  the  chief  reason  for  the 
neglect  of  the  dove  being  the  abundance  of  other, 
and  in  my  opinion  better,  game.  Late  in  the 
season  the  fully  matured  birds  scatter  far  and  wide 
during  the  day,  and  toward  dusk  come  whistling 
back  to  the  common  roost.  At  that  time,  a  man 
in  the  line  of  flight  can  have  some  very  pretty 
shooting,  single  chances  being  the  rule  as  the  doves 
straggle  past.  At  many  points  in  the  South,  this 
flight  is  heavy  and  the  guns  keep  up  an  irregular 
popping.  In  the  North,  one  could  hardly  expect 
more  than  from  a  half-dozen  to  a  dozen  chances 
of  an  evening. 

A  great  many  excellent  people  are  given  to  rail- 
ing against  dove-shooting,  but  their  objections 
have  no  solid  foundation.  The  fact  is  that,  from 
the  story  of  the  Flood  down  to  that  more  notable 
reference  to  the  Dove,  we  have  naturally  held  the 
name  dear.  Had  the  present  dove  chanced  to 
have  been  named  "  chicken-hawk,"  or  "  crow,"  not 


37°  The  Mourning  Dove 

a  dear  old  lady  in  the  land  would  have  cared  one 
continental  how  many  of  the  breed  we  sportsmen 
butchered.  Then,  too,  the  plaintive  sobbing  of  the 
love-note  appeals  to  tender  hearts,  as  does  the  bill- 
ing and  cooing  of  all  doves  appeal  to  the  romantic 
side  of  those  who  are  doing  likewise,  or  who  are 
thinking  of  future  possibilities  in  that  line.  Hence 
the  sportsman  who  shoots  doves  must  needs  be  a 
hard-hearted  brute  —  that  is,  unless  he  happens  to 
enter  the  lists  as  a  wooer.  Then,  I've  heard,  for 
of  course  I  have  no  personal  knowledge,  that  even 
a  manly,  straightforward  sportsman  can  be  for- 
given —  nay,  even  encouraged,  possibly  through  a 
Christian  desire  to  wean  him  from  the  cruelty  of 
his  ways.  And  wise  men,  in  pity  of  ignorance 
perhaps,  have  even  whispered  to  me  that  a  mess 
of  doves  is  not  necessarily  a  direct  insult,  and  that 
one  nicely  mounted  —  say  in  a  position  which 
would  enable  it  to  brood  on  the  side  of  a  hat  —  is 
no  bad  scheme. 

One  of  the  deadliest  foes  of  the  dove  and  of 
many  of  our  common  birds  is  the  red  squirrel. 
Any  unusual  commotion  among  our  feathered 
friends  of  garden  and  orchard  is  apt  to  be  caused 
by  puss  or  the  red  rascal.  The  squirrel's  prey  is 
the  eggs,  which  he  prefers  when  the  young  are 
almost  ready  to  leave  the  shell.  He  will  hold 
an  egg  in  his  paws  like  a  nut,  and  swiftly  nib- 
ble away  the  shell  until  he  can  draw  forth  the 


The  Mourning  Dove  371 

bleeding  dainty,  which  he  devours  with  keen  relish. 
Those  who  notice  small  pieces  of  blood-stained 
eggshell  scattered  under  the  trees  will  seldom  err 
in  blaming  the  squirrel  for  the  murderous  work. 
I  have  many  times  seen  red  squirrels  raiding  nests 
in  pine,  fir,  and  fruit  trees,  and  I  suspect  that  nests 
upon  the  ground  are  robbed  more  often  than  most 
people  imagine.  I  have  shot  squirrels  red-handed 
and  red-lipped  from  a  feast,  also  while  carrying  an 
egg,  while  more  times  than  I  can  now  recall  I 
have  driven  the  robber  from  a  nest  before  he  had 
accomplished  his  purpose.  A  raid  upon  a  dove's 
nest  will  serve  as  an  illustration. 

Before  my  old  home  grew  many  stately  pines  and 
firs.  As  these  trees  aged,  they  became  rather  ragged 
in  appearance,  so,  to  induce  a  denser  growth,  and 
also  to  supply  the  green  for  church  decoration  and 
Christmas  tree,  the  top  of  a  great  tree  was  sawed 
off  each  year  and  the  exposed  end  capped  with  a 
bit  of  board.  The  doves  soon  found  these  boards, 
and  were  not  slow  in  discovering  that  they  were 
ideal  nesting-places.  I  used  to  take  the  young 
doves  and  tame  them,  for  they  are  most  interest- 
ing pets. 

One  day  the  persistent  scolding  of  a  red  squir- 
rel attracted  my  attention,  and  picking  up  the 
best  remedy  for  such  rascals,  I  stole  out  to  one 
of  the  "  dove-trees  "  as  we  called  them.  On  the 
nest  was  the  mother  bird,  and  sticking  to  the  bark, 


372  The  Mourning  Dove 

a  few  inches  below  the  nest,  was  the  red  thug. 
The  two  were  playing  a  small  but  thrilling  selec- 
tion from  the  great  drama  of  life  and  death.  The 
heroic  dove  was  firmly  braced  above  her  almost 
hatched  treasures,  and  with  one  wing  raised  as  a 
fencer  raises  his  swordless  hand,  she  faced  her  foe 
with  the  courage  of  despair.  Her  fighting  wing 
was  nervously  patting  her  side,  ready  for  instant 
action,  while  her  dainty  head  kept  nodding  an 
undying  defiance.  As  I  held  the  best  trump 
out,  I  let  them  play  a  bit. 

From  his  position,  all  the  squirrel  could  see 
was  the  dove's  head  and  her  wild  eye,  and,  skir- 
mish as  he  would,  that  eye  never  lost  him.  If  he 
shifted  around  the  trunk,  the  dove  turned  with 
him  —  in  fact,  he  could  go  around  the  tree,  but 
not  around  the  dove.  His  object,  of  course,  was 
to  rush  the  position,  and  I  soon  discovered  that 
there  was  but  one  place  which  offered  him  an 
easy  course,  and  that  he  knew  it.  All  the  time 
he  kept  up  a  curious  purring  noise  and  a  rasping 
with  his  teeth  as  though  he  were  gnawing  some 
hard  substance  —  this,  in  all  probability,  intended 
to  intimidate  the  dove. 

"  Stay  with  him,  old  lady  —  there's  reenforce- 
ments,"  I  chuckled  to  myself,  but  I  wanted  to 
see  more. 

Presently  the  squirrel  worked  back  to  the  real 
point  of  attack,  and  with  a  scream  he  thrust  his 


The  Mourning  Dove  373 

head  above  the  nest.  With  a  bat  like  the  thump 
of  a  boxing-glove,  the  wing  met  his  nose,  and  only 
the  strong  hooks  on  his  hind  feet  prevented  his 
being  knocked  clean  out  of  the  arena.  As  it  was, 
he  hung  for  an  instant  head  downward  and  he 
slid  a  couple  of  feet  before  he  could  recover 
himself. 

Talk  about  language !  The  sputtering  tirade 
would  have  made  a  common  scold  envious.  He 
was  mad  now,  clear  through,  and  presently  he 
again  stole  upward  to  repeat  his  attack  and  to 
again  encounter  the  clever  wing.  Another  and 
yet  another  attempt  was  baffled  in  the  same  way, 
and  if  his  piratical  nose  didn't  tingle,  his  remarks 
were  a  poor  indication  of  his  feelings.  Then  he 
acquired  wisdom.  A  foot  above  the  nest  was  a 
small  branch  from  which  he  could  drop  fairly 
upon  the  dove's  back,  and  this  he  presently 
seemed  to  figure  out.  His  change  of  attack  at 
once  filled  the  dove  with  fear,  as  her  demeanor 
plainly  showed.  But  the  thing  had  gone  far 
enough. 

"  None  of  that  —  that's  foul !  "  I  remarked. 

Instantly  the  late  bravo  flattened  with  fear, 
then  he  made  a  flying  leap  to  a  main  limb,  and 
from  that  to  another  tree.  Not  caring  to  shoot 
so  near  the  nest,  I  chased  after  him,  and  cer- 
tainly he  showed  me  what  a  terrified  red  squirrel 
can  do.  From  that  tree  he  hurled  himself  to  a 


374  The  Mourning  Dove 

roof,  and  as  no  wise  man  shoots  shot  into  his  own 
shingles,  I  let  him  run.  Thence  to  the  roof  of  a 
big  greenhouse  (another  poor  place  for  a  shot), 
while  I  kept  within  easy  range.  Finally  to  the 
top  scantling  of  a  picket  fence,  along  which  he 
coursed  like  a  puff  of  red  smoke.  I  forget  how 
many  pickets  I  held  ahead  of  him.  It  matters 
not,  for  the  result  went  to  show  that  I  had  led 
him  plenty,  and  leaded  him  more  than  plenty. 


THE   QUAIL   AND   THE   GROUSE 
OF   THE    PACIFIC   COAST 

BY  T.  S.  VAN  DYKE 


THE   QUAIL   AND   THE   GROUSE 
OF   THE    PACIFIC   COAST 

THE  VALLEY-QUAIL  OF  CALIFORNIA 

On  the  Pacific  Coast  are  three  varieties  of  the 
blue  or  crested  quail,  of  which  the  most  numer- 
ous is  the  valley-quail,  so  called  from  its  gathering 
in  the  fall  in  great  bands  of  hundreds,  and  even 
thousands,  which,  before  they  were  much  hunted, 
spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  valleys  instead  of  in 
the  hills  where  they  were  hatched.  But  it  lives 
everywhere  from  coast  to  mountain  top,  except  in 
the  higher  ranges,  where  it  disappears  toward  five 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  From  1875  to  1885 
I  lived  where  these  birds  were  in  sight  or  sound, 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  the  whole  year  round, 
and  never  saw  any  evidence  of  their  raising  a 
second  brood  in  a  season.  An  occasional  late 
brood  is  doubtless  due  to  the  destruction  of  the 
first  nest.  It  roosts  in  terrific  cactus,  into  which 
it  flies  at  full  speed,  or  in  trees  out  of  which  it 
goes  at  dawn  like  a  charge  of  grape-shot,  and  as 
it  loses  no  eggs  by  wet  weather  and  suffers  none 
from  winter  freezing,  its  natural  enemies  cannot 

377 


37 8     Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

keep  it  down.  Up  to  the  rapid  settlement  of  the 
country  and  the  advent  of  the  cheap  breech-loader, 
its  numbers  were  beyond  all  comprehension,  espe- 
cially in  southern  California.  But  under  the  rigid 
protection  it  now  has  by  a  limit  of  twenty-five  a 
day  to  the  gun  and  the  stoppage  of  market-shoot- 
ing, it  will  soon  be  plenty  again. 

Its  length  is  about  eleven  inches  for  the  largest 
specimens,  with  wing  of  four  and  a  quarter,  or 
nearly  the  same  length  as  Bob-white,  with  wing 
about  half  an  inch  shorter.  But  as  the  tail  is 
about  an  inch  longer  than  that  of  Bob-white,  it 
is  really  a  smaller  bird  and  not  so  plump.  Its 
color  is  ashy  blue  or  slate,  with  chestnut  gloss 
running  into  warm  golden  tints  underneath, 
mottled  with  tawny  white,  black  and  cinnamon 
on  the  belly,  with  black  throat  on  the  male,  a 
white  line  over  the  eye,  and  white  collar  around 
the  black  throat.  Both  sexes  have  a  plume  of 
black,  imbricated  feathers  about  an  inch  and  a 
quarter  long,  curving  forward  over  the  bill.  In 
shape  it  is  very  graceful,  and  in  action  far  quicker 
than  Bob-white,  except  on  the  wing,  where  the 
difference  in  speed  amounts  to  little ;  although  the 
common  opinion  is  to  the  contrary,  because  under 
the  different  conditions  it  is  a  harder  bird  to  shoot. 

Up  to  a  certain  point  the  valley-quail  has  not 
the  slightest  fear  of  man,  but  rather  enjoys  show- 
ing that  he  is  not  afraid.  No  other  game-bird 


The  Valley-Quail  of  California       379 

lives  so  continuously  in  sight  of  man,  advises  him 
so  industriously  of  his  presence,  and  makes  him- 
self so  much  at  home  in  his  garden.  Morning, 
noon,  and  night  his  call  rings  from  the  hillside  by 
the  house ;  he  stands  on  the  granite  boulder  and 
surveys  you  with  an  air  of  defiant  impudence, 
trots  along  the  road  in  front  of  your  horse,  and 
helps  himself  to  your  finest  grapes.  With  encour- 
agement he  will  become  tame  enough  to  asso- 
ciate with  your  chickens  and  dust  himself  in  your 
flower  beds.  In  a  cage  he  makes  himself  quickly 
at  home,  and  with  plenty  of  room  would  probably 
breed  in  captivity. 

No  other  bird,  except  his  lively  cousin  of  the 
desert,  Gambel's  partridge,  equals  this  bird  in  vivac- 
ity. Unless  disturbed  he  moves  little  on  the  wing, 
but  his  feet  are  rarely  at  rest,  and  when  they  are 
his  tongue  keeps  up  a  low  twittering.  One  can 
hardly  see  as  much  of  him  as  I  did  for  years  with- 
out believing  that  to  some  extent  he  talks.  Some 
of  his  many  notes  are  going  nearly  all  the  time, 
even  in  the  smallest  bevy.  The  most  common  of 
these  is  the  assembling  call,  which  he  keeps  going 
when  there  is  no  need  of  it,  so  far  as  you  can  see. 
This  is  of  three  flutelike  notes,  with  the  accent 
generally  strong  on  the  second  and  sounding  much 
like  O-hi-o.  But  the  accent  is  often  shifted  to  the 
first  and  last  notes,  so  that  it  sounds  like  Tuck- 
a-hoe.  Again,  the  first  is  suppressed,  the  middle 


380    Quail  and  Grouse  of  tbe  Pacific  Coast 

one  more  strongly  drawn,  and  the  last  dropped 
so  that  the  call  becomes  a  ringing  k-woick.  The 
alarm  is  a  sharp  whit-w hit-whit  of  metallic  ring, 
mingled  with  a  muffled  wook-wook-wook  k-wook- 
ook;  and  when  the  birds  are  so  scattered  that  they 
rise  singly,  many  give  a  sharp  chirp-chirp-chirp 
when  they  rise  near  you,  while  nearly  all  that  rise 
wild  are  silent.  The  brooding  call  is  a  soft  wah 
or  waw  from  the  male  on  some  bush  or  cactus 
near  where  the  female  is  sitting.  During  this 
time  he  often  utters  a  sharp  tee-oo,  but  this  is  most 
always  when  he  is  on  the  ground  and  generally  out 
of  sight  in  cover ;  while  the  other  is  almost  never 
heard  except  when  he  is  in  sight  on  some  perch. 
By  that  class  of  sportsmen  to  whom  size,  flavor, 
heads,  etc.,  count  for  nothing,  but  who  love  game 
for  its  slippery  qualities,  the  valley-quail  where 
well  known  stands  at  the  head  of  American 
game-birds,  being  surpassed  in  smartness  only  by 
Gambel's  partridge.  For  no  other  bird  equally 
approachable  and  of  equal  numbers  can  so  puzzle 
even  the  expert  as  these  two.  Like  its  cunning 
cousin,  the  valley-quail  trusts  first  to  its  legs  to 
escape,  and  often  when  you  see  one  run  along  the 
ground  and  then  break  into  flight,  it  seems  a 
needless  absurdity,  for  the  increase  in  the  speed 
is  so  slight.  No  one  need  have  any  scruples 
about  shooting  at  a  single  bird  running,  especially 
when  dodging  among  small  bushes. 


o. 


Tbe  Valley -Quail  of  California       381 


One  of  the  great  bands  often  allows  you  to 
come  within  sixty  or  seventy  yards  on  the  edge 
of  the  plain,  and  then  often  moves  like  an  army. 
First  the  pickets  are  driven  in,  running  into,  or 
flying  over,  the  main  body,  to  alight  in  front. 
Then  part  of  the  main  body  moves  safely  out  of 
reach  with  every  swift  leg  moving  in  concert.  If 
the  danger  is  imminent  the  whole  moves ;  some- 
times as  a  whole,  shifting  to  the  left  or  right,  or 
going  straight  ahead,  or  reversing  with  a  quick 
wheeling  motion ;  or  sometimes  in  platoons  which 
run  in  all  manner  of  flank  and  oblique  movements, 
but  with  heads  well  up  and  all  in  line  and  orderly 
array  that  would  charm  a  drill  sergeant.  Unless 
pressed  too  closely,  they  rarely  take  wing,  though 
a  few  of  the  birds  may  flutter  upon  stones  for  a 
better  inspection  of  the  intruder,  and  some  of  the 
rear  guard  may  fly  over  the  head  of  the  main 
column.  But  when  you  come  too  near  there  is 
a  roar  of  wings  that  often  rivals  the  distant 
thunder,  and  the  whole  flock  is  in  air  in  a  myriad 
lines  of  curling,  twisting,  darting,  and  chirping  blue. 

At  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  and  often 
less,  the  flock  alights  with  every  leg  in  rapid 
motion  the  instant  it  touches  earth.  If  you  are 
not  expeditious,  there  will  be  nothing  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  that  spot  by  the  time  you  arrive, 
and  if  you  are  a  trifle  too  slow  the  whole  hunt 
begins  again  anew.  In  this  way  a  flock  may  lead 


382    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

the  tyro  up  hill  and  down  dale  for  miles  without 
giving  him  a  shot  that  will  bag  anything.  But 
when  chased  up  rapidly  and  flushed  two  or  three 
times  as  soon  as  they  can  alight,  with  a  few  shots 
fired  over  their  heads  to  scare  them,  the  solid 
ranks  suddenly  break  and  scatter  over  several 
acres  of  ground.  In  this  many  lie  as  closely  as 
Bob-white  ever  lies,  depending  on  the  amount 
and  quality  of  the  ground  cover,  while  many  more 
rise  at  five,  ten,  fifteen,  or  twenty  yards  and  up- 
ward, from  so  many  unsuspected  places  and  in 
such  varied  twists,  that  most  of  them  call  for  the 
very  highest  skill  with  the  gun.  Many  more  rise 
far  out  of  shot,  while  others  steal  away  on  silent 
foot,  and  still  others  lie  so  that  you  can  almost 
tread  on  them.  For  the  latter  a  good  dog  is 
needed,  but  the  others  are  liable  to  spoil  him 
unless  great  care  be  taken  to  keep  him  in  order 
in  their  riotous  presence.  In  this  way  bags  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  to  a  gun,  with  many  more 
crippled  and  lost  by  their  speed  of  foot,  were  not 
uncommon  without  a  dog  fifteen  years  ago,  with 
almost  a  certainty  of  a  hundred  and  fifty.  But 
this  was  only  for  the  expert,  and  nothing  was  more 
amazing  to  the  tyro  than  the  few  feathers  he 
would  at  first  get  out  of  the  largest  flock.  And 
many  an  expert  from  the  East,  who  had  not 
learned  the  ways  of  this  quail,  was  equally  amazed 
when  he  found  the  weight  of  his  game  far  less 


The  Valley -Quail  of  California       383 

than  that  of  the  ammunition  he  had  shot  away. 
For  the  first  day  or  two  he  was  quite  likely  to 
return  from  the  field  with  pockets  equally  empty 
of  both  ammunition  and  game. 

But  persecution  has  made  this  quail  far  more 
puzzling  even  to  the  best  expert.  Few  are  the 
birds  to-day  that  do  not  run  or  fly  before  you  are 
within  one  hundred  yards.  We  used  to  think 
persecution  would  make  them  lie  better.  But  it 
has  been  the  reverse,  though  their  tendency  to 
lie  is  still  the  only  hope  of  the  sportsman.  To- 
day they  travel  on  the  wing  for  hundreds  of  yards, 
even  crossing  deep  and  broad  canons,  whereas 
fifteen  years  ago  they  rarely  took  to  wing  unless 
going  to  or  from  roost.  Once  it  was  almost  a  cer- 
tainty that  the  largest  flock  would  alight  within 
two  hundred  yards ;  and  if  it  flew  over  a  ridge, 
the  chances  were  many  to  one  that  it  touched 
ground  soon  after  passing  the  crest.  Now  the 
flight  is  twice  or  thrice  and  often  several  times 
as  long.  And  if  they  go  over  a  ridge  the  great 
puzzle  is  to  know  before  it  is  too  late  on  what 
part  of  the  slope  over  the  next  ravine  they 
alighted,  or  whether  they  went  clear  over  the 
second  crest ;  or  whether  they  went  up  or  down 
the  ravine,  which  they  never  used  to  do.  And  if 
you  do  not  quickly  settle  these  points,  the  whole 
flock  will  again  be  together  and  under  such  full 
leg  power  that  the  hunt  begins  all  over  again. 


384    Quail  and  Grouse  of  tbe  Pacific  Coast 

Formerly  they  were  easily  found  by  their  assem- 
bling call,  which  they  kept  always  going  at  such  a 
rate  that  it  would  generally  enable  you  to  locate 
any  flock  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more.  But 
now  they  have  learned  the  use  of  silence.  And 
they  know  how  to  keep  still  before  you  come  as 
well  as  after.  And  instead  of  large,  noisy  flocks 
in  the  valleys,  they  are  now  in  smaller  bands  high 
up  the  hillsides  and  more  out  of  sight  in  the 
brush.  Every  rise  of  the  flock  is  now  apt  to  be 
out  of  shot,  and  it  is  only  at  the  single  ones  that 
one  can  point  the  gun  with  any  hope,  while  the 
rise  of  these  is  more  than  double  what  it  was. 
Instead  of  a  great  roaring  blue  cloud,  you  see 
more  often  only  a  string  of  dark  dots  stretching 
over  some  towering  ridge,  from  which  the  sound 
of  wings  is  barely  audible  in  the  distance. 

When  a  flock  first  touched  ground  from  a  flight, 
you  were  once  quite  certain  to  get  a  shot  if  you 
were  there  soon  enough.  Now  it  is  generally 
impossible  to  reach  that  spot  in  time  or  the  next 
or  even  the  next  place.  On  the  place  where  a 
big  flock  first  alighted  after  scattering,  one  could 
once  find  many  birds  still  lying  closely  an  hour  or 
more  after  chasing  the  rest  in  different  directions. 
But  to-day  it  is  quite  a  waste  of  time  to  tramp 
over  old  spots,  though  in  a  few  places  they  still  lie 
well  in  good  cover.  The  average  rise  both  of  the 
flock  and  of  single  birds  has  also  greatly  increased. 


The  Valley -Quail  of  California       385 

Only  last  August  2Oth,  1901,  while  hunting  deer 
on  the  Santa  Monica  Mountains,  some  thirty 
miles  from  Los  Angeles,  California,  I  saw  thou- 
sands of  quail,  many  of  which  were  not  yet  full 
grown.  None  trotted  along  the  trail  ahead  of  me 
as  in  the  olden  time,  but  all  rose  wild,  and  made 
long  flights,  whether  I  was  on  foot  or  horseback. 
Instead  of  two  hundred  or  over,  the  best  experts 
are  now  content  with  thirty  or  forty,  while  fifty  is 
a  big  bag  even  where  birds  are  the  most  plenty. 
And  nearly  all  are  ready  now  to  concede,  what  I 
claimed  twenty  years  ago,  that  twenty-five  quail 
in  a  day  afford  all  the  sport,  exercise  of  skill,  and 
recreation  that  any  reasonable  person  should 
desire. 

Once  good  shooting  could  be  had  without  a 
dog  because  the  flocks  were  so  noisy  one  could 
locate  them  by  the  ear  more  quickly  than  the  dog 
could  by  scent  But  now  a  dog  is  almost  a  neces- 
sity on  most  grounds,  to  find  the  birds  in  the  first 
place,  as  well  as  to  keep  track  of  them  after  rising. 
And  he  must  be  a  marvel  of  speed  and  endurance, 
a  salamander  in  heat  and  dry  air,  a  paragon  of 
patience  and  obedience,  or  the  wily  game  will  give 
him  the  slip  and  leave  him  too  hot  and  breathless 
to  be  of  use  for  some  time.  And  he  must  be  an 
equal  marvel  of  good  sense,  and  his  master  still 
more  so,  or  the  excitement  will  be  too  much  for 
him.  California  is  breeding  dogs  equal  to  the 


386    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

emergency ;  but  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  cultivate 
the  high  speed  and  endurance  necessary,  and  at 
the  same  time  restrain  the  carelessness  such  a 
pace  is  sure  to  cause.  When  you  consider  that 
the  finest  eastern  dog  is  nowhere  in  this  race,  or 
if  he  is,  is  liable  to  be  worthless  in  a  short  time, 
you  can  understand  the  task  breeders  and  trainers 
have  had.  But  the  dog  rises  to  the  emergency, 
and  as  the  quails  annually  learn  more  about  the 
range  of  a  gun  and  the  speed  of  man,  so  the  dog 
learns  to  go  faster  without  flushing  them  and  how 
to  crowd  them  without  passing  the  danger  line, 
until  the  contest  of  brute  against  brute  is  now  the 
finest  exhibition  on  earth,  and  enough  to  reward 
one  for  a  long  tramp  with  the  gun  left  at  home. 

THE  MOUNTAIN-QUAIL 

When  we  climb  the  larger  hills  of  the  Pacific 
Coast  to  where  the  perennial  brooks  sing  down 
dark  defiles,  and  the  columbine  and  the  tiger-lily 
begin  to  flame  from  deeper  shades,  we  hear  a 
ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chee-ah  from  the  dense  green  of  the 
lilac  or  the  bristling  red  of  the  manzanita,  so 
plaintive  yet  so  sweet  that  we  are  at  once  brought 
to  a  halt.  Or  along  the  hills  around  your  camp 
you  may  be  awakened  from  your  morning  nap  by 
a  cloi-cloi-cloi-cloi-cloi  as  silvery  as  ever  fell  from 
feathered  throat.  And  it  may  swell  again  at 
eveningtide  where  the  mimulus  pours  its  fountain 


CALIFORNIA   MOUNTAIN-QUAIL 


The  Mountain- Quail  387 

of  gold  over  the  old  dark  rocks,  or  from  the  beds 
of  fern  around  the  little  meadow  where  the  iris 
blows. 

When  you  hear  the  first  call,  which  sometimes 
sounds  more  like  quit-quit-quit-quit-queee-ah,  you 
may  see  a  new  quail  steal  softly  out  of  sight.  Or 
he  may  turn  to  look  at  you  with  swelling  breast 
of  slate-blue  tinged  with  the  olive  and  brown  that 
robe  most  of  the  back.  A  chestnut  throat  bor- 
dered with  black  on  the  sides,  and  that  again  with 
white,  dark  cinnamon  underneath,  with  sides  in 
broad  bands  of  black  and  reddish  white,  with  two 
curving  stripes  of  white  along  the  sides  of  the 
back,  and  two  long,  slender  plumes  of  jet  nodding 
backward  over  the  trim  little  head,  the  whole  cov- 
ering a  body  apparently  much  larger  and  plumper 
than  that  of  Bob-white,  catch  your  eye  at  once. 
Another  hops  upon  a  stone  beside  him  to  take  a 
better  look  at  you,  and  then  beside  a  fallen  log 
you  mark  another  little  back  of  rich  olive-brown, 
while  all  around  little  feet  go  rustling  gently  out 
of  sight.  They  may  seem  very  tame,  yet  through 
all  their  simplicity  runs  an  undertone  of  caution ; 
and  before  you  know  it  a  dozen  or  more  birds  have 
completed  a  close  inspection  of  you  and  vanished 
as  softly  as  the  shadows  of  the  oaks  in  the  falling 
of  night.  They  act  as  if  they  would  like  to  trust 
you  if  the  cowardly  little  legs  were  not  so  weak. 
Yet  they  allow  the  legs  to  furnish  the  logic  of  the 


388    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

occasion,  and  the  artless  trust  they  have  for  a 
moment  reposed  in  you  suddenly  seems  the  sub- 
limity of  art. 

Thus  acted  once  the  mountain-quail,  and  so  he 
still  acts  in  those  sections  where  he  has  not  yet 
learned  the  duplicity  of  man.  But  in  most  cases 
he  has  learned  in  the  school  of  experience  a  very 
different  style  of  art.  And  there  are  few  scholars 
more  apt  in  learning  about  modern  guns  and  pow^ 
ders ;  the  scratching  of  tenderfoot  leggings  against 
the  stiff  arms  of  the  wild  cherry  will  now  start  up 
a  silent  leg-energy  that  will  leave  one  wondering 
if  such  a  thing  as  the  mountain-quail  ever  really 
existed. 

This  quail  can  live  at  or  near  sea  level  appar- 
ently as  well  as  the  valley-quail.  But  it  loves  the 
wooded  glens  and  singing  brooks  of  the  higher 
ranges,  and  is  at  home  from  where  the  timber 
begins  to  cast  enough  shade  at  about  three  thou- 
sand feet,  to  far  away  up  the  slopes  where  the  gray 
squirrel  whisks  his  bushy  tail  no  more ;  where  the 
lavender  of  the  band-tailed  pigeon  is  seen  only  as 
it  drifts  over  the  deep  blue  of  the  can  on  far  below, 
and  where  the  coyote,  the  fox,  and  the  wildcat 
bring  no  more  anxiety.  Though  sometimes  seen 
where  the  arcades  of  alder  that  arch  over  the  hiss- 
ing brook  run  out  into  lowland  willows,  it  is,  in 
the  southern  part  of  California,  a  bird  of  the  high 
mountains.  On  the  great  San  Pedro  Martir  of 


The  Mountain- Quail  389 

Lower  California  (Mexico)  it  is  found  where  stu- 
pendous boulders,  piled  into  cathedral  towers, 
almost  hide  the  giant  sugar-pines  that  struggle 
through  the  rifts  between  them.  But  I  never  saw 
it  below  the  mountain's  top,  or  in  the  first  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  mighty  gulches  that  plunge 
abruptly  down.  As,  however,  we  approach  the 
northern  line  of  California,  where  the  rainfall  is 
greater,  and  the  timber  runs  much  nearer  sea  level, 
it  becomes  more  of  a  lowland  bird,  until,  in  Ore- 
gon, it  may  almost  be  called  the  common  quail  of 
the  country ;  for  it  runs  out  into  the  edges  of  the 
valleys,  and  in  the  thickets  adjoining  meets  the 
valley-quail,  which  there  is  fast  becoming  more 
scarce. 

Like  the  valley-quail,  the  mountain-quail  is 
easily  tamed,  and  might  be  utilized  in  those  parts 
of  the  East  where  the  winter  snows  are  too  much 
for  Bob-white. 

With  plenty  of  room  it  might  be  induced  to 
breed  in  captivity.  Where  I  lived  in  1878  there 
were  two  that  ran  with  the  chickens,  and  went 
into  the  same  coop  with  them  every  night.  They 
were  so  tame  that  I  could  almost  pick  them  up, 
and  with  the  same  effort  they  could  probably  have 
been  made  as  tame  as  any  chicken.  For  many 
months  after  being  brought  from  their  wilder 
home  they  stayed  about  the  place  with  no  re- 
straint, but  as  both  were  males,  the  question  of 


39°    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

breeding  could  not  be  determined.  Finally,  one 
disappeared,  and  after  looking  lonely  and  sad  for 
a  few  weeks  the  other  disappeared.  As  chickens 
were  vanishing  in  the  meantime,  via  the  fox,  coyote, 
and  wildcat,  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the 
quails  left  because  weary  of  captivity. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  this  quail  is  of  fine 
flavor.  It  is  dry  and  insipid  compared  to  Bob- 
white.  This  still  leaves  considerable  margin  for 
excellence,  and  in  the  hands  of  a  cook  who  knows 
something  besides  those  cabalistic  words  "  quail  on 
toast "  a  very  good  dish  may  be  made  of  it.  But 
slowly  desiccated  on  one  side  of  the  fire  and  then 
laid  out  on  a  bit  of  toast  slowly  desiccated  on  the 
other  side,  in  California  style,  it  is  the  most  ridicu- 
lous combination  I  know  of.  It  is  the  same  with 
the  other  quails,  and  even  in  northern  Mexico  I 
have  found  the  blue  quail  the  same  way.  One  can 
live  on  them  a  long  time  without  cloying,  and  the 
question  of  a  quail  a  day  for  thirty  days  has  no 
application  to  these  birds. 

The  mountain-quail  cannot  be  classed  among 
the  birds  that  are  regularly  hunted  like  the  valley- 
quail.  Its  pursuit  is  more  accidental,  as  it  is  rarely 
plenty  enough  to  justify  a  special  trip.  Though 
it  breeds  in  the  same  numbers  as  the  valley-quail, 
and  apparently  has  fewer  enemies,  it  is  scarce  com- 
pared with  it,  while  it  is  so  wild  and  slippery  in 
most  places  that  it  should  be  very  plenty  to  give 


Tbe  Mountain- Quail  391 

much  of  a  bag.  The  only  places  where  I  have 
seen  it  plenty  enough  are  in  the  wild  and  almost 
inaccessible  parts  of  the  Coast  Range  of  Oregon 
that  appear  on  the  map  as  unsurveyed.  Why  it 
should  be  so  I  cannot  imagine ;  for  the  conditions 
are  the  same  in  many  other  places  as  to  food, 
etc.,  while  it  is  nowhere  in  that  country  kept  down 
by  the  gun.  But  I  have  there  seen  dozens  of 
bevies  in  a  morning's  hunt  for  elk,  with  every  in- 
dication that  in  the  salal  and  ferns  they  would  lie 
well  to  a  dog.  I  believe  a  bag  of  fifty  a  day  could 
easily  be  made  there,  in  places,  though  I  did  not 
try  to  shoot  any.  In  most  places  a  bag  of  a  dozen 
would  be  good,  and  ordinarily  they  would  bother 
a  dog  far  worse  than  the  valley-quail  or  his  desert 
relative.  It  does  not  unite  in  large  packs  like  the 
other  two  quails,  so  that  you  lack  the  numbers, 
which,  in  case  of  the  others,  make  up  for  the  run- 
ning away  of  so  many.  You  must  generally  hunt 
a  single  bevy,  or,  at  most,  two  or  three  together. 
The  greater  part  of  its  range  lacks  the  ground 
cover  that  allows  the  other  quails  to  hide  well, 
and  everywhere  he  wears  legs  that  forget  none 
of  their  cunning.  Though  not  quite  so  swift  of 
foot  as  the  Arizona  quail,  the  mountain-quail 
knows  even  better  where  to  run  to  and  generally 
inhabits  ground  where  he  can  utilize  to  the  best 
this  information.  There  is  no  finer  judge  of  up- 
hill, and  if  you  are  laden  with  "  walking  shoes  " 


392    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

and  other  fashionable  toggery,  he  seems  perfectly 
aware  of  it,  and  will  give  you  the  fullest  opportu- 
nity to  get  your  money's  worth  of  bliss  out  of 
them,  especially  if  the  day  is  hot.  He  seems  to 
know,  too,  that  you  boast  a  gun  that  will  clear  the 
brush  and  bag  the  game  at  the  same  discharge, 
and  he  appears  to  be  curious  how  it  will  work. 
No  other  bird  tempts  Providence  so  much,  and 
no  other  is  better  able  to  do  it.  He  lingers  just 
enough  to  lead  you  on,  and  runs  just  enough  to 
induce  the  tenderfoot  to  tear  up  with  a  charge  of 
shot  the  exact  spot  he  has  just  vacated.  He  flies 
just  far  enough  in  the  open  to  make  the  ordinary 
shot  believe  he  can  get  him,  and  then  dodges 
around  some  dense  brush  just  quickly  enough 
to  show  him  that  he  cannot.  And  he  deceives 
the  best  brush  shot  with  the  idea  that  he  is  going 
to  lie  close  enough  for  a  good  snapshot  in  the 
thickest  part  of  the  brush,  when  he  is  scudding 
out  of  sight  up-hill  as  fast  as  his  legs  can  carry 
him.  He  flies  no  faster  than  Bob-white,  and 
twists  no  more,  yet  he  is  a  far  harder  bird  to  bag 
on  account  of  his  rising  farther  off,  and  from 
unexpected  places.  From  this  and  the  extra 
toughness  of  all  these  quail  arises  the  belief  that 
they  are  faster  fliers  and  harder  to  hit  than  Bob- 
white,  which  is  not  true.  If  Bob  rose  the  same 
and  without  being  pointed  by  a  dog,  he  would  be 
just  as  hard,  except  that  the  duller  color  of  these 


The  Mountain- Quail 


393 


birds,  in  some  kinds  of  cover,  makes  a  little  differ- 
ence. So  with  the  size.  "  It  is  much  larger  than 
Bob-white,"  says  Dr.  Coues.  But  its  tail  is  nearly 
an  inch  longer,  and  the  wings  nearly  as  much 
longer,  while  it  is  fuller  feathered  about  the  body. 
When  picked  the  difference  is  more  apparent 
than  real. 

There  is  but  one  way  to  get  good  shooting  out 
of  this  bird,  and  that  is  to  scare  and  scatter  it  as 
quickly  as  possible,  the  same  as  with  the  valley- 
quail.  Many  will  often  lie  well  enough,  then,  to 
give  you  some  chance,  which  must  be  quickly 
taken.  But  others  will  run  in  spite  of  all  you 
can  do,  and  are  hard  enough  to  hit  on  the  ground 
when  dodging  about.  By  the  time  you  have 
hazed  them  enough  to  make  them  lie  well,  you 
are  almost  in  the  same  condition,  unless  dressed 
in  a  manner  that  allows  high  speed.  The  way 
they  can  run  up-hill,  hopping  and  fluttering  from 
rock  to  rock,  and  making  you  believe  they  are  not 
moving  rapidly,  while  you  are  scrambling  breath- 
less up  from  below,  and  all  the  time  just  out  of 
shot,  is  very  puzzling.  And  about  the  time  you 
think  you  have  driven  them  to  the  top  of  some 
ridge,  with  nothing  but  down-hill  on  the  other 
side,  the  way  they  fool  you  by  being  not  there 
when  you  arrive  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
features  of  life  behind  the  gun. 


394    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

GAMBEL'S   PARTRIDGE 
THE  QUAIL  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  Sierra  Nevada  cuts  off  the  rainfall  so  that, 
in  a  few  miles  after  passing  its  crest,  the  eastern 
slope  becomes  perfect  desert,  in  many  places  the 
most  dangerous  in  the  world.  Though  the  valley- 
quail  in  some  portions  of  the  western  slope  has 
shown  his  ability  to  thrive  without  water,  and 
apparently  without  feed,  he  does  not  pass  this 
mountain  crest  to  any  extent,  though  there  are 
many  places  where  he  could  prosper  as  well  as 
on  the  other  slope.  On  the  eastern  slope  his 
place  is  taken  by  the  brightest  and  most  active 
of  all  the  game-birds  of  earth,  Gambel's  par- 
tridge, a  rover  and  lover  of  the  desert.  There 
are  places  enough  like  the  rich  bottoms  of  the 
Colorado  River  and  the  farms  of  Salt  River  Val- 
ley to  prove  that  this  bird  knows  all  about  the 
fatness  of  earth,  and  does  not  degenerate  in  the 
fulness  of  its  bounties.  Yet  without  a  sigh  he 
leaves  the  rich  alfalfa  fields,  vineyards,  and  or- 
chards of  the  irrigated  sections  to  scramble  among 
the  fiery  rocks  that  bound  the  blazing  plain,  and 
seems  as  happy  under  the  mocking  shade  of  a 
bush  that  only  intensifies  the  heat  by  stopping 
the  breeze  as  he  is  under  the  dark  chapuli  of 
Sonora,  that  stands  as  solidly  green  as  the  finest 
live-oak.  So  much  is  he  in  love  with  dry  air, 


Gambel's  Partridge  395 

dry  ground,  and  eternal  sun  that  he  does  not  pass 
the  crest  of  the  Sierra  to  the  west,  although  he 
could  certainly  thrive  there  with  the  valley-quail. 
The  farthest  western  point  at  which  I  have  found 
him  was  on  the  Mojave  Desert  near  Dagget,  on 
the  meridian  of  San  Bernardino,  only  twelve  miles 
east  of  the  longitude  of  San  Diego.  On  this 
eastern  slope  of  the  Sierra  he  is  found  through- 
out a  long  range,  though  his  greatest  numbers 
are  in  Arizona  and  Sonora. 

The  same  in  general  color,  size,  form,  and 
habits  as  the  valley -quail  of  California,  he  re- 
sembles him  also  in  manner  of  breeding  and  run- 
ning into  large  packs  of  hundreds  and  even 
thousands  in  the  fall.  He  varies  the  notes  in  so 
many  ways  that  they  can  hardly  be  classified,  and 
yet  they  are  so  nearly  the  same  that  one  at  once 
recognizes  them.  But  in  the  distribution  of  the 
colors  and  especially  in  the  action  of  the  bird, 
you  at  once  recognize  a  distinctly  different  being. 
The  chestnut  cap  beneath  his  nodding  plume  of 
jet,  the  island  of  jet  upon  his  breast,  with  the 
broad  bands  of  cinnamon  on  the  sides  striped 
with  white,  —  all  these,  in  contrast  with  his  ashy 
blue  coat,  give  him  an  air  of  something  you  can- 
not describe,  yet  plainly  an  improvement  on  the 
style  of  his  wily  cousin  of  the  western  coast.  In 
activity  and  ability  to  take  care  of  himself  under 
the  most  adverse  conditions,  this  desert  bird  is 


Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

plainly  the  superior  of  the  other.  You  need 
never  inquire  where  he  gets  water,  or  even  food, 
for  he  can  certainly  go  without  water,  and  often, 
so  far  as  you  can  see,  dispenses  as  readily  with 
food.  Yet  he  is  always  happy  and  fat,  and  ready  to 
leave  in  the  lurch  the  best  dogs,  the  best  legs,  and 
the  best  guns  his  native  land  can  turn  out.  For 
this  reason  many,  at  first,  pronounce  him  a  fraud. 
But  many  more  have  an  irresistible  inclination  to 
try  him  again,  an  appetite  that  grows  by  what  it 
feeds  upon,  until  every  one  who  loves  game  that 
can  get  away  in  neat  style  is  ready  to  pronounce 
him  the  leader  in  smartness  of  all  our  game-birds. 

There  is  something  intensely  human  about  the 
way  Gambel's  partridge  can  toy  with  your  bright- 
est hopes  and  keep  your  wits  on  a  tension  as 
severe  as  the  most  slippery  of  your  beloved  race. 
And  when  you  consider  the  small  number  that 
with  great  effort  you  can  bag  out  of  the  largest 
flock,  you  will  be  again  reminded  of  another  two- 
legged  animal  you  may  have  hunted.  It  looks, 
too,  so  humanly  innocent  before  you  are  well 
embarked  in  the  chase.  Seen  from  a  wagon,  it 
often  looks  so  mild  and  gentle  that  one  unversed 
in  the  tricks  of  game  may  say :  — 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  shoot  so  innocent  a 
thing." 

And  it  does  often  seem  mere  murder ;  for  the 
flock  may  be  massed  and  looking  at  you  at  that 


Gambel's  Partridge  397 

distance  that  is  so  deadly  to  a  bit  of  pattern 
paper.  But  it  is  much  more  likely  seventy  yards 
or  more,  where  no  one  but  a  tenderfoot  would 
think  of  shooting  into  the  flock.  Perhaps  this  is 
on  the  deep  bottom  lands  of  the  Colorado  River, 
where  the  mesquite,  that  on  the  open  plain  forms 
such  a  light  shade  with  its  feathery  foliage,  is 
massed  into  solid  green  that  forms  long  winding 
arcades,  or  stands  alone  in  clumps  of  giant  size 
in  a  tangle  of  a  thousand  twisting  arms  as  snaky 
as  the  head  of  Medusa. 

Probably  the  flock  does  not  deign  to  rise  at 
your  approach,  but  vanishes  down  one  of  the 
shaded  aisles  of  the  timber  on  the  most  deceptive 
legs  that  ever  carried  a  bird,  and  out  of  the 
wagon  leaps  the  tenderfoot  to  sneak  upon  it. 
He  keeps  out  of  sight  behind  a  mesquite,  and 
with  determination  glistening  in  his  eye  moves 
on  as  rapid  a  walk  as  he  can.  By  all  means  let 
his  determination  glisten.  You  will  get  no  shoot- 
ing until  the  birds  are  scattered,  and  a  dozen 
tenderfeet  in  full  run  would  only  improve  matters. 

By  the  time  the  tenderfoot  emerges  from  the 
cover  where  he  last  saw  the  birds  he  hears  them 
calling  over  a  hundred  yards  away.  He  hastens 
there  only  to  find  the  call  sounding  still  as  far 
ahead,  if  not  a  little  more  so.  Nothing  on  the 
ground,  nothing  in  the  trees,  no  sound  of  buzzing 
wings  or  rustling  feet,  and  even  the  tender 


398    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

hearted  chap  who  thought  it  so  wicked  to  shoot 
them  begins  now  to  wonder  if  the  tenderfoot  can 
hit  one.  Having  had  some  experience  with  the 
California  quail,  you  take  the  field,  but  quickly 
wish  you  had  left  home  that  fancy  coat,  those 
store  leggings,  those  hobnailed  shoes,  and  other 
regulation  nuisances;  while  Tenderheart  begins 
to  wonder  how  one  of  those  birds  would  taste  if 
well  broiled.  If  you  would  dress  as  I  do  for  this 
chase,  with  only  a  shirt,  pants,  and  hat,  with  buck- 
skin moccasins  and  only  two  dozen  cartridges, 
with  no  whiskey  flask  or  canteen,  you  would  soon 
have  them  scattered  and  be  in  good  shape  to 
shoot.  But  by  the  time  you  have  them  scattered 
the  fashionable  sudorifics  with  which  you  are 
laden  have  had  their  effect  in  this  hot  climate, 
and  you  are  about  ready  to  pronounce  this  quail- 
shooting  the  meanest  of  all  sublunary  humbugs. 

"Scattered,"  did  I  say?  It  seems  rather  as  if 
they  were  gone  forever.  For  only  one  or  two 
calls  can  you  hear,  and  they  are  far  away.  It 
looks  as  if  the  flock  had  only  acquired  speed 
from  the  pursuit.  And  it  is  often  quite  puzzling 
to  tell  when  the  birds  have  run  away  from  you, 
and  when  they  have  scattered  and  are  lying 
hidden  all  around  you.  But  as  you  move  ahead 
a  few  rods  there  is  a  sudden  burst  of  wings  over 
your  head  in  a  big  mesquite,  and  you  wheel  about 
and  get  the  gun  to  your  shoulder  just  in  time  to 


Cambers  Partridge  399 

see  exactly  nothing,  but  hear  another  burst  of 
wings  from  what  is  now  behind  you.  You  wheel 
once  more  just  in  time  to  see  nothing,  but  from 
the  next  mesquite  ahead  there  comes  a  roar  from 
a  dozen  pair  of  wings,  making  a  dim,  blue  haze 
through  the  green  that  is  gone  before  you  can 
turn  the  gun  upon  it.  Then  as  suddenly  all 
is  still  in  all  the  vast  tangles  of  branches  and 
feathery  green  around  you.  You  thrash  with  the 
gun  the  branches  of  a  huge  mesquite  that  droop 
along  the  ground,  but  nothing  moves.  You  go 
to  the  other  side  and  repeat  the  thrashing,  when 
out  of  the  side  you  just  left  whizz  a  dozen  wings. 
You  make  a  quick  shot  at  the  first  bluish  haze 
you  see  through  the  green,  but  on  the  other  side 
you  look  in  vain  for  a  feather,  and  conclude  that 
if  any  shot  got  through  that  mass  of  limb  and 
twigs  it  was  too  much  exhausted  to  do  any  busi- 
ness that  day. 

You  then  decide  to  utilize  the  tenderfoot  to 
hammer  on  one  side  of  a  tree  while  you  stand 
ready  on  the  other.  A  very  good  scheme,  but  as 
you  take  your  position  your  presence  sends  a  half- 
dozen  birds  buzzing  out  of  the  top  of  a  mesquite, 
and  so  close  to  the  head  of  the  tenderfoot  that 
you  dare  not  shoot.  Meanwhile  another  bird 
whips  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  clump  of  mes- 
quite, scuds  around  out  of  your  sight,  and  then 
rises  into  flight  in  a  line  with  its  heaviest  mass. 


400    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

But  it  'makes  a  slight  miscalculation  about  the 
relative  merits  of  the  two  men,  and  in  trying  to 
dodge  the  tenderfoot  it  curves  outward  to  where 
the  shot  from  your  gun  makes  a  tangent  with  its 
course,  and  it  goes  whirling  down  out  of  a  cloud 
of  feathers  of  white,  chestnut,  and  slate-blue. 
Tenderheart  comes  running  from  the  wagon  to 
look  at  it,  feels  of  its  breast,  and  inquires  about  the 
best  mode  of  cooking  it,  and  then  looks  around  to 
see  what  are  the  prospects  of  getting  some  more. 
But  you  suddenly  find  the  trees  empty,  the  call 
of  the  birds  more  rare  and  farther  off.  They  are 
only  hiding  more  closely,  but  you  do  not  know 
that  and  think  they  are  gone.  I  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  it  would  help  you  much  if  you  did  know 
it,  for  it  takes  some  time  to  realize  the  tramping 
and  retramping  that  must  be  done  and  the  quick- 
ness with  the  gun  necessary  to  make  a  respectable 
bag  out  of  even  the  largest  flock.  But  if  you  did 
understand  them  and  were  properly  dressed,  you 
could  make  a  bag  such  as  cannot  be  made  to-day 
on  any  game-bird  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  use  up  more  ammunition  in  doing  it  than  on 
any  other  bird  that  flies.  But  being  a  novice 
with  these  birds,  you  decide  that  they  are  gone, 
that  this  is  not  the  best  kind  of  ground  anyhow, 
and  that  something  more  open  is  desirable.  In 
which  Tenderheart  cheerfully  concurs,  for  though 
he  might  not  admit  it,  he  would  like  to  see  man 


Gambel' s  Partridge  401 

triumph  —  at  least  enough  to  insure  to-morrow's 
breakfast. 

A  little  nearer  the  river  is  a  patch  of  arrow- 
weed  in  which  the  game  will  surely  lie  well. 
This  is  about  as  dense  as  Indian  corn  sown  for 
fodder,  seven  or  eight  feet  high,  a  mass  of  brown 
stems  and  green  leaves  with  the  top  almost  a  level 
floor  of  green.  It  is  little  trouble  to  scatter  a 
flock  in  this.  And  it  is  so  easy  to  walk  around 
the  edges,  it  will  surely  be  easy  to  force  the  birds 
into  flight ;  for  the  patch  is  not  very  wide  and  you 
can  walk  into  it  if  necessary  to  start  the  game. 
Exactly.  The  birds  do  rise  from  it  at  just  about 
the  time  and  places  you  expect.  But  they  have  a 
marvellous  intuition  about  the  relative  heights  of 
arrowweed  and  the  human  figure,  and  lose  no 
time  in  the  application  of  their  wisdom.  Bbbbbbbb, 
goes  a  bird  from  near  the  edge,  and  through  the 
dim  haze  made  by  the  leaves  at  the  top  of  the 
cover  you  catch  sight  of  a  curve  of  blue  just  as  it 
starts  away  on  a  straight  line  over  the  top  of  the 
arrowweed.  And  this  straight  line  happens  to  be 
level  with  the  top  of  the  cover,  and  only  five 
inches  above  it.  Which  means  that  in  about 
five  feet  from  where  you  first  discover  it,  it  is 
out  of  sight.  And  if  in  desperation  you  should 
make  a  snap  shot  at  its  course,  the  chances  are 
many  that  you  would  not  touch  it,  and  many 
more  that  you  would  never  find  it  if  you  did. 


402    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

So  you  think  you  will  go  to  the  thin  mesquite 
that  borders  the  arid  plain  where  the  cactus  and 
dragon's  blood  with  the  bright  green  of  the  pala 
verde  make  the  birds  tarry  just  long  enough  for 
you  to  come  within  shot,  but  not  enough  to  hide 
them  so  that  you  cannot  see  them.  Blue  and 
chestnut  soon  flash  among  the  burning  rocks,  and 
the  more  you  quicken  your  pace  the  more  they 
flash.  You  wish  you  had  a  lighter  gun  and  less 
ammunition  in  your  pockets,  and  soon  call  for  the 
canteen  of  water  in  the  wagon.  By  the  time  you 
have  emptied  it  the  birds  are  as  far  away  as  ever, 
and  the  whole  hunt  has  to  be  begun  anew.  But 
you  overtake  them  again,  and  one  that  lingers  too 
long  to  look  at  you  goes  whirling  over  at  forty 
yards  with  a  quick  shot.  From  a  shower  of 
feathers  you  conclude  he  is  dead,  but  also  learn 
he  was  tough  enough  to  flutter  out  of  your  reach 
in  a  pile  of  spiny  cactus.  And  by  the  time  you 
are  sure  of  this  the  rest  are  out  of  reach  again, 
skipping  gayly  over  rocks,  with  nodding  plumes, 
and  making  great  speed  for  the  top  of  the  ridge. 
The  greater  the  size  of  the  flock  the  faster  they 
seem  to  go,  and  you  may  suddenly  be  paralyzed 
with  the  thought  that  out  of  thousands  of  birds 
you  may  not  get  enough  to  scent  the  frying-pan 
enough  for  Tenderheart,  who  is  now  showing 
lively  interest  in  the  matter.  By  the  time  you 
scramble  out  of  breath  to  the  top  of  the  ridge, 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  403 

nothing  is  in  sight,  and  about  the  time  you  are 
through  wondering  where  they  went  you  see  dark 
lines  twisting  here  and  there  through  the  cactus 
and  brush  of  the  next  slope,  while  away  on  the 
sides  some  blue  lines  rise  buzzing  out  of  shot.  A 
grand  surprise  for  one  who  went  so  hopefully  to 
the  fray.  Yet  if  you  will  keep  on  until  you  learn 
to  manage  them,  you  can  get  enough  to  satisfy 
any  one  and  have  the  quickest  and  finest  work 
with  the  gun  you  ever  imagined,  while  Tender- 
heart  will  want  a  gun  even  more  than  you  do. 

THE  RUFFED  GROUSE 

The  red  ruffed  grouse,  as  he  is  called,  is  the 
same  in  general  size  and  shape  as  the  brown 
ruffed  grouse  of  the  eastern  woods,  but  is  dis- 
tinctly darker  with  a  reddish  cast  in  the  brown. 
Its  habits  of  breeding  and  living  are  about  the 
same,  yet  with  an  abundance  of  food,  milder 
winters  than  the  eastern  bird  has  to  endure,  and 
apparently  far  fewer  enemies,  it  is  not  as  plenty 
on  the  very  best  grounds  as  the  eastern  grouse 
is  in  many  places.  And  this  is  the  case  where 
it  is  not  shot,  trapped,  or  hunted  in  any  way,  and 
where  hawks,  owls,  coyotes,  foxes,  wildcats,  and 
other  marauders  are  very  rare. 

The  ruffed  grouse  is  not  found  in  southern  or 
central  California,  though  all  the  conditions  of 
his  happiest  existence  seem  to  abound  there  in 


404    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

the  mountains.  He  begins  to  appear  far  in  the 
North,  becomes  more  plenty  in  Oregon,  and  con- 
tinues on  from  there  up  the  coast  into  Alaska,  it 
is  said.  I  have  found  him  most  plenty  in  the 
Cascade  Range,  and  much  more  so  than  in  the 
Coast  Range;  though  in  the  latter  there  is  far  more 
feed  in  many  places  with  absolutely  no  disturb- 
ance from  man.  And  even  in  the  Cascades  he  is 
most  abundant  on  the  eastern  slope,  where  the 
chain  breaks  away  in  short,  steep  ridges  with 
deep,  rocky  gulches  between,  well  filled  with  a 
tangle  of  vines  and  shrubbery.  On  the  western 
slope,  where  the  range  falls  away  so  gently  that 
the  last  thirty  miles  of  the  road  to  Crater  Lake 
seem  almost  a  level,  where  huckleberries  and 
other  feed  abound,  and  grass  is  plenty  almost 
everywhere,  the  bird  is  much  more  rare.  Yet  he 
is  here,  and  where  the  tamarack  springs  like  the 
spears  of  an  ancient  host,  or  the  giant  hemlock 
shuts  out  the  sun,  or  in  the  windfalls  where  the 
mighty  trunks  are  piled  so  high  as  to  make  you 
hesitate,  this  grouse  often  spreads  the  broad, 
banded  tail  that  so  easily  escapes  the  outer  edge 
of  the  circle  of  best-aimed  shot. 

Many  of  the  local  hunters  will  tell  you  that  you 
can  do  nothing  with  this  grouse  because  "the 
brush  is  too  thick."  But  who  that  knows  the  bird 
would  have  it  otherwise  ?  The  miles  one  gladly 
tramps  in  the  eastern  woods  to  get  even  a  glimpse 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  405 

of  its  fan  fading  in  the  dark  rotunda  of  the  forest 
would  not  be  travelled  for  a  bird  that  rose  in  the 
open  and  made  an  easy  mark.  Moreover,  a  large 
bag  of  anything  is,  at  last,  distinctly  out  of  fash- 
ion, even  on  this  coast,  is  being  rapidly  forbidden 
by  law,  and  the  laws  are  being  enforced.  And 
the  laws  are  made  by  those  who  best  know  what 
makes  a  day's  sport  with  the  gun. 

And  here  he  is  full  of  his  old  tricks  with  some 
new  ones  adapted  to  the  new  conditions.  And 
all  are  so  natural,  for  he  has  had  no  persecution 
to  make  him  study  the  art  of  escape  as  the  quail 
has.  One  must  not  only  know  how  to  shoot  in 
brush,  but  must  also  be  in  good  practice,  or  only 
the  roar  of  wings  will  reward  his  efforts  and  he 
will  watch  in  vain  for  the  falling  of  the  brown 
line  whose  arrowy  flight  pierces  the  distant 
thicket  with  no  sign  of  wavering.  Here  from  a 
fallen  tree  rises  a  huge  skein  of  upturned  roots, 
and  the  bird  is  behind  it  before  you  can  turn  the 
gun  upon  it.  The  roots  will  stop  nearly  all  the 
shot,  but  your  only  hope  rests  on  a  few  getting 
through,  for  if  you  wait  to  see  the  whizzing  mark 
on  the  other  side  it  will  be  only  when  far  out  of 
reach,  if  in  sight  at  all.  For  he  knows  as  much 
about  keeping  upturned  butts  of  a  tree  between 
you  and  him  as  about  doing  the  same  with  the 
trunk  of  a  tree. 

Here  is  a  bunch  of  tamaracks,  so  dense  that 


406    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

scarcely  a  ray  of  sunlight  filters  through  to  the 
carpet  of  needles  beneath.  What  is  the  use  of 
going  into  such  stuff,  where  you  almost  have  to 
crawl,  and  cannot  swing  the  gun  on  either  side 
without  striking  a  tree  ?  Surely  a  bird  would  be 
out  of  sight  in  ten  feet  of  upward  rise.  Of 
course,  and  even  in  less  than  that.  Bbbbbbbb 
goes  an  uproarious  wing,  and  before  the  gun  is 
halfway  to  your  shoulder,  a  flash  of  reddish  brown 
is  out  of  sight  in  the  tangle  of  twigs  and  branches 
above.  But  as  you  raise  the  gun  you  drop  on 
one  knee,  and  dimly  along  the  iron  rib  you  catch 
the  line  of  -  the  game's  disappearance  where  a 
fading  streak  of  fancied  brown  still  glimmers 
in  imagination's  eye.  But  to  the  expert  in  brush 
the  eye  of  fancy  is  often  good  enough,  and  at  the 
report  of  the  gun  a  whirl  of  brown  and  white  with 
mottled  breast  curves  downward  through  the 
shower  of  twigs  and  drift  of  circling  feathers. 

In  a  heavy  mass  of  huckleberry  bushes  you  hear 
another  roar  of  wings,  but  you  know  that  the 
former  trick  of  dropping  on  one  knee  will  not 
now  avail,  for  the  lower  you  drop  the  more  sure 
you  are  to  see  nothing.  And  you  cannot  rise  on 
tiptoe  to  see  over  the  brush,  for  the  bird  knows 
too  much  to  rise  above  it  enough  to  let  you  see 
him.  You  have  to  shoot  almost  by  the  sound, 
with  the  slight  aid  from  a  faint  glimpse,  perhaps, 
of  hazy  wings  as  they  cross  some  small  opening. 


The  Ruffed  Grouse  407 

In  a  twinkling  your  first  barrel  clears  a  road 
through  the  brush  a  little  forward  of  the  line  of 
the  bird's  flight.  And  the  second  tunnels  the 
smoke  of  the  first  a  little  farther  ahead  of  where 
the  wings  are  still  resounding.  As  the  sound 
ceases  you  go  with  mighty  strain  of  expectation 
to  look  for  a  feather  or  two  lodged  on  the  top  of 
the  brush.  But  there  is  none  there,  none  floating 
on  the  air,  and  as  you  realize  that  the  bird  sailed 
away  on  that  silent,  outspread  wing  that  so  closely 
imitates  the  flight  of  an  arrow,  you  feel  a  mild  resig- 
nation steal  over  you,  somewhat  akin  to  gladness 
that  you  have  found  something  as  smart  as  you  are. 
Even  in  the  remotest  wilds  he  is  the  same  wary 
bird,  wary  by  nature  more  than  by  education. 
Nowhere  in  the  East  does  he  know  better  how  to 
hide  and  let  you  pass  him  than  among  the  little 
dwarf  huckleberries  that  gleam  in  scarlet  on  the 
slope  of  the  Cascades.  And  where  the  crimson  of 
the  wild  cherries  and  the  golden  light  of  the  wild 
plum  illumine  the  dark  thicket  he  springs  with  that 
obstreperous  wing  whose  music  is  but  the  more 
enchanting  for  being  too  quickly  gone.  And  how 
could  any  of  his  race  forget  that  old  family  trick 
of  dodging  behind  a  tree  about  the  instant  you  are 
ready  to  pull  the  trigger,  and  then  keeping  in  line 
with  it  until  well  out  of  shot  ?  Nor  has  he  forgotten 
that  you  will  look  for  him  again  in  the  spot  where 
he  alights,  and  he  will  run  off  on  one  side,  where 


408     Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

he  can  laugh  at  you  for  a  while  and  then  amuse 
you  with  the  hubbub  of  his  resounding  wing  where 
your  best-aimed  shot  will  never  reach  it. 

Though  plentiful  nowhere  on  the  coast,  the  red 
ruffed  grouse  is  found  throughout  as  large  a  range 
as  the  dusky  grouse.  High  up  in  the  tumbling 
hills,  where  new  pentstemons  in  carmine  and  pink 
nod  over  crystal  streams  that  foam  from  the  heads 
of  the  higher  gulches,  he  steals  out  from  the  deep, 
dark  ranks  of  the  spruce  to  take  a  look  at  the  outer 
world.  And  still  higher  in  the  rugged  mountains, 
where  the  last  little  blue  lily  gives  up  the  struggle 
for  life  in  the  cold  wet  bog  among  the  dwarf  pines, 
he  may  shake  the  sunshine  from  his  roaring  wing 
and  whizz  down  the  glen  at  your  approach.  But 
the  best  hunting  is  lower  down,  where  the  chin- 
quapin begins  to  tower  into  the  stately  tree  it  often 
becomes  in  Oregon,  and  where  the  golden  green 
of  the  madrono  makes  such  happy  light  against 
the  sombre  masses  of  the  red  fir.  In  autumn  the 
bird  may  descend  to  the  thickets  of  willow  and 
alder  that  line  the  streams  in  the  little  valleys,  or 
to  the  fringes  of  scrub  oak  and  laurel  that  line  the 
edges  of  the  lower  hills.  Here  one  may  get  open 
shooting  as  he  curls  around  on  the  outside  of  the 
line  of  brush,  or  in  the  black  oaks  and  firs  along 
the  base  of  the  hills  may  get  some  shooting  out  of 
trees  well  worthy  of  the  name.  I  do  not  mean  the 
miserable  murder  of  shooting  one  off  a  limb  with 


Tbe  Ruffed  Grouse 


409 


a  shotgun  while  it  sits  craning  its  neck  at  a  dog 
barking  below,  or  even  the  respectable  business 
of  shooting  at  the  head  of  one  with  the  rifle.  The 
latter  involves  some  hunting,  for  few  things  are 
harder  to  see  than  a  ruffed  grouse  perfectly  still 
in  a  tree.  And  to  hit  the  small  head  with  a  single 
ball  is  about  as  hard  as  any  rifle-shooting  if  the 
trees  are  of  much  height.  But  with  the  shotgun 
to  hit  one  flying  from  a  tree  is  one  of  the  shots  to 
boast  of,  and  you  must  never  be  too  elated  with 
one  or  two  good  shots.  How  to  make  the  bird  fly 
if  too  high  to  scare  out  with  stick  or  stone,  is  a 
matter  of  detail  too  long  for  the  limits  of  this  article, 
but  if  you  throw  anything  at  him,  be  sure  and  get 
your  hand  in  position  on  the  gun  again  before  it 
reaches  him. 

Bbbbbbb  goes  the  bird  with  a  rush  that  sur- 
passes the  starting  of  any  other  of  earth's  crea- 
tures, and  at  the  report  of  the  first  barrel,  on  goes 
the  game  as  if  feathered  with  the  lightning's  rays. 
Bang  goes  the  second  barrel  as  quickly  as  you  can 
shift  your  finger  to  the  next  trigger,  but  the  gay 
rover  vanishes  where  the  arms  of  the  fir  intertwine 
above,  and  not  a  feather  drifts  down  from  its  whiz- 
zing line  of  brown  and  white  around  which  the 
rapid  wings  seem  but  a  reddish  haze  tinged  with 
gray.  You  shot  behind,  of  course,  and  the  next 
time  will  be  sure  to  hold  far  enough  ahead. 
Bbbbbbbbb  goes  another,  with  a  downward  curve 


410    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

you  did  not  notice  before,  and  do  not  notice  now 
until  it  is  too  late.  Bang  goes  the  first  barrel,  but 
like  a  shaft  of  light  the  bird  goes  on,  with  the  shot 
hissing  just  over  his  back.  Bang  goes  the  second 
barrel,  with  the  shot  both  too  high  and  behind, 
while  the  brown  line  glides  out  of  sight  among 
the  trunks  as  swiftly  and  easily  as  the  meteor 
among  the  stars  of  night. 

THE   DUSKY   GROUSE 

The  largest  ground  bird  of  the  Pacific  Coast 
is  the  dusky  grouse.  It  varies  in  size  from  a 
pinnated  grouse  of  medium  size  to  a  sharp-tailed 
grouse  of  the  largest.  Its  prevailing  color  is  dark 
brown,  shading  to  black,  threaded  with  wavy  lines 
of  gray  of  somewhat  bluish  tinge.  Underneath 
it  runs  into  white  dashed  with  brown  and  black, 
more  or  less  finely  mottled,  especially  about  the 
neck  and  throat.  According  to  Dr.  Coues  it  is 
the  same  as  the  dusky  or  blue  grouse  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  "a  large,  cumbrous  bird,  usu- 
ally displaying  stolidity  or  indifference  to  the 
presence  of  man,  taking  to  trees  when  disturbed, 
and  very  easily  slaughtered/' 

This  description  is  a  mistake  as  applied  to  the 
grouse  of  this  coast.  It  is  large  and  also  cum- 
brous in  flight  compared  with  the  ruffed  grouse, 
and  generally  alights  in  trees  when  disturbed. 
But  here  it  is  anything  but  stolid  or  indifferent 


The  Dusky  Grouse  411 

to  the  presence  of  man,  and  is  easily  slaughtered 
only  by  those  who  know  how  to  do  it.  The 
proper  way  to  hunt  it  is  with  the  small  rifle,  and 
then  it  is  often  one  of  the  most  puzzling  of  all 
birds  to  shoot.  But  even  with  the  shotgun  it  is 
no  easy  victim,  except  under  the  same  conditions 
that  the  wildest  ruffed  grouse  of  the  eastern 
woods  sometimes  is.  To  many  of  our  most  ardent 
sportsmen  it  is  best  known  by  an  occasional 
glimpse  of  brown  fading  among  distant  tree- 
trunks,  or  by  the  flutter  of  clumsy  wings  among 
the  undergrowth.  But  those  same  wings  carry 
it  out  of  sight  far  too  rapidly  for  the  tyro,  and 
when  among  the  masses  of  foliage  in  the  big  trees 
even  the  sharpest  eyes  have  all  they  can  do  to  see 
it,  while  to  shoot  it  artistically  with  the  rifle  needs 
all  the  keenness  of  eye  and  steadiness  of  hand  the 
best  expert  can  command.  For  these  reasons  it 
is  considered  fine  game  by  even  the  experts  of 
this  coast,  and  no  one  who  hunts  it  much  ever 
calls  it  a  fool.  With  the  single  exception  of  the 
ruffed  grouse,  it  is  by  far  the  finest  flavored  of  all 
the  game-birds  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 

The  dusky  grouse  is  not  found  in  what  is 
called  southern  California,  though  a  few  may  be 
found  in  the  higher  ranges  of  Ventura  and  Santa 
Barbara  counties.  It  is  only  where  the  Sierra 
Nevada  swings  around  to  join  the  Coast  Range 
at  Tehichipi  that  it  begins  to  appear,  though  in 


412    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

the  more  southern  hills  there  is  an  abundance 
of  the  tall  pines,  deeply  shaded  glens,  secluded 
thickets,  and  fern-clad  swales  that  it  most  loves. 
In  the  high  Sierra,  where  the  silence  of  the  woods 
is  really  oppressive  at  times,  there  is  no  more 
welcome  sound  than  the  wing  of  this  grouse  as 
it  wheels  into  sight  from  some  raspberry  patch, 
scuds  away  over  the  carpet  of  pine  needles,  or 
bursts  from  the  tangled  vines  that  robe  some  rocky 
dell.  On  open  ground  it  makes  about  the  same 
mark  as  the  pinnated  grouse  when  full  grown,  but 
before  it  has  the  strong  wing  of  late  autumn.  It 
makes  few  twists  or  curves ;  but,  on  much  of  the 
ground  where  it  is  found,  it  can  vanish  among 
the  colonnades  of  great  trunks  in  manner  almost 
as  ravishing  as  that  of  the  ruffed  grouse.  And 
even  where  the  timber  is  smaller,  as  among  the 
dense  tamaracks,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  turn  the 
gun  upon  the  large  target  before  it  is  out  of  sight 
among  the  serried  trunks.  Nor  is  its  rise  so  close 
as  to  make  very  easy  shooting.  In  the  timber  it 
will  be  oftener  over  twenty  yards  than  under,  and 
very  rarely  near  enough  to  allow  any  trifling  in 
getting  the  gun  ready.  The  courtesy  we  used  to 
extend  to  a  tenderfoot  friend  in  giving  him  first 
shot  at  the  pinnated  grouse,  with  a  comparative 
certainty  of  securing  it  after  he  had  missed  with 
both  barrels,  would  generally  result  in  a  short 
larder  with  this  grouse. 


The  Dusky  Grouse  413 

But  there  is  an  exception  to  this  among  grouse 
feeding  in  long  grass  early  in  the  season,  before 
the  young  are  very  strong  of  wing.  In  little  open 
parks  among  heavy  timber  they  may  sometimes 
be  found  out  in  the  grass,  acting  somewhat  like 
pinnated  grouse  on  stubble  in  early  fall.  In  one 
of  some  thirty  acres  lying  hidden  among  the 
towering  ranks  of  Douglas  fir  that  robe  the 
Coast  Range  of  southwestern  Oregon,  I  once 
found  them  so  plenty  that  in  about  an  hour  a 
companion  bagged  seventeen,  all  in  single  shots 
and  rising  in  the  open.  As  there  was  but  one 
shotgun  in  the  party,  I  played  dog,  dropping  flat 
to  the  ground  when  one  rose.  So  many  of  them 
lay  almost  as  close  as  pinnated  grouse  that  I  have 
no  doubt  we  could  have  tripled  the  bag  with  a 
good  dog.  Their  flight  was  almost  exactly  like 
that  of  the  pinnated,  and  with  a  dog  there  would 
have  been  little  difference  between  that  and  ordi- 
nary summer  prairie  shooting.  Such  is  by  no 
means  the  rule  however,  and  how  to  get  good  and 
certain  shooting  on  this  grouse  is  a  problem  not 
easily  solved.  Many  do  not  attempt  it,  but  rely  on 
shooting  with  the  rifle  such  as  may  fly  up  along 
the  trail  when  travelling  the  great  forests,  or  use 
them  as  a  diversion  from  deer-hunting,  or  fishing, 
when  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  far  from  camp. 
This  grouse  lays  a  dozen  or  fifteen  eggs,  and,  like 
the  young  of  the  pinnated  and  ruffed  grouse,  the 


414    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

little  chicks  know  how  to  hide  in  the  smallest 
cover.  The  old  one,  instead  of  flying  away,  flut- 
ters into  a  tree  near  at  hand  where  she  walks 
about  on  a  limb  and  inspects  you  with  a  touching 
krrrrrrrrrrrrrr-uk-uk.  Where  they  have  never 
been  disturbed,  as  in  the  wilder  parts  of  Oregon, 
they  allow  you  to  come  very  near  when  doing 
this.  Otherwise  I  can  hardly  see  how  it  can  be 
called  a  very  tame  bird,  although  it  will  vary  in 
different  places  the  same  as  the  mountain-quail. 
Nor  have  I  found  it  plenty  enough  to  cloy  any 
one  who  quickly  tires  of  anything  too  easily  done. 
During  three  weeks  spent  in  the  wildest  part  of 
the  Coast  Range  of  Oregon,  in  1896,  all  the  time 
beyond  the  last  sight  or  sound  of  man  or  any  of 
his  works,  I  saw  many  every  day,  but  nowhere 
were  they  as  abundant  and  tame  as  in  the  little 
meadow  where  we  got  the  seventeen.  And  I  doubt 
if  any  one  could  average  seventeen  a  day  by  any 
means,  fair  or  foul,  unless  where  concentrated  by 
berries.  In  the  Cascades  I  found  it  still  more 
scarce. 

Yet  the  dusky  grouse  of  this  coast  has  nearly 
all  those  qualities  that  charm  so  many  who  care 
nothing  for  the  size  or  quantity  of  game.  In  the 
rich  bottoms  where  the  fir  doubles  its  size,  and 
the  grand  Port  Orford  cedar  forms  a  roof  against 
which  the  sun's  brightest  rays  struggle  in  vain, 
this  grouse  springs  from  the  shade  with  a  roar  of 


The  Dusky  Grouse  415 

wing  that  in  the  great  silence  of  the  forest  seems 
like  a  sound  from  home.  And  equally  dear  as  a 
companion  it  seems  on  the  top  of  the  soaring  ridge, 
where  the  sweep  of  the  storm  has  piled  a  thousand 
shattered  trunks  in  ruinous  confusion,  leaving  the 
sunlight  to  play  uncheckered  upon  the  scrubby 
chinquapin.  And  often  a  dozen  or  more  may 
burst  from  where  the  service-berry  still  droops 
darkly  blue  in  summer's  waning,  with  a  racket 
that  makes  you  clutch  the  rifle  as  if  it  were  that 
bear  for  which  you  have  so  long  been  looking. 
And  there  are  few  sights  more  attractive  than 
one  rising  into  the  few  patches  of  sunshine  found 
in  these  dark  woods,  with  its  full  form  in  bright 
relief  against  the  thicket  of  salmon  berry,  black- 
berry, and  blackcaps,  with  the  large  red  huckle- 
berry shining  like  fire  against  the  dark  background 
of  the  timber. 

The  best  shooting  on  the  dusky  grouse  is  not 
with  the  shotgun,  but  with  the  rifle.  There  is 
rarely  certainty  enough  in  finding  it  to  make  it 
a  special  object  of  pursuit.  In  places  you  may 
travel  all  day  without  flushing  one,  and  in  the 
Sierra  Nevada  I  once  spent  a  week  in  the  wildest 
portion  without  seeing  one.  But  when  you  are  out 
with  the  rifle  and  not  afraid  of  alarming  larger 
game,  there  is  no  finer  mark  than  the  head  of  this 
grouse.  One  standing  upright  on  some  huge 
limb  a  hundred  feet  away  and  in  the  dim  light 


4i 6    Quail  and  Grouse  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

of  the  forest  will  test  your  nerves  as  well  as  the 
accuracy  of  your  favorite  rifle  in  a  way  no  other 
game  is  likely  to  do.  For  you  must  hit  it  in  the 
head,  or  at  least  in  the  neck,  or  you  will  be  ashamed 
to  bring  it  into  camp.  Moreover,  if  hit  in  the 
body  with  a  large  rifle,  it  will  be  torn  too  much ; 
and  if  struck  with  the  twenty-two  calibre  in  the 
body,  it  may  fly  away  where  you  will  never  find  it. 
Then,  too,  when  hit  in  the  head,  you  feel  a  satis- 
faction, as  it  comes  fluttering  down,  that  you  can- 
not know  if  you  hit  it  in  the  body.  And  you  do 
not  feel  at  all  bad  if  the  bird  goes  whizzing  away 
with  a  feather  or  two  from  its  neck  fluttering 
down  the  breeze. 

The  best  shooting  of  this  kind  is  on  the  old 
cock  grouse  when  "  tooting."  Perched  on  some 
high  limb  of  a  big  tree  he  squats  so  low  that  he  is 
very  hard  to  see,  especially  as  he  looks  more  like 
a  big  knot  than  a  bird,  and  sends  forth  a  hollow 
oooop  —  ooop  —  ooop,  so  far-reaching  and  so  de- 
ceptive that  it  is  quite  apt  to  mislead  one.  To 
locate  the  tree  he  is  on  is  no  easy  trick,  while 
getting  your  eye  upon  the  game  calls  for  the  ut- 
most keenness  you  can  develop.  There  is  nothing 
in  deer  or  antelope  hunting  that  calls  for  any  finer 
use  of  sight,  and  by  the  time  you  see  the  bird  you 
will  generally  find  you  have  done  some  very  skil- 
ful hunting.  But  you  are  not  yet  through* 
The  sights  of  the  rifle,  so  bright  and  clear  against 


The  Dusky  Grouse  417 

the  target  or  the  imaginary  game  on  which  you 
try  them,  suddenly  become  very  dim  when  you 
raise  them  on  the  head  of  this  old  cock.  They 
were  bad  enough  on  other  grouse  perching  lower 
and  in  thinner  trees.  But  now  you  have  to  look 
harder  for  the  sights  than  for  the  game.  You 
may  have  discovered  this  before  on  deer  in  the 
distant  aisles  of  the  forest  or  on  antelope  in  the 
dancing  heat  of  the  plain ;  but  it  is  far  worse  now, 
especially  as  you  often  have  to  hold  the  rifle 
almost  vertically,  with  the  sunlight  streaming 
down  the  sights.  And  often  the  woods  are  so 
dense  there  is  not  light  enough  even  if  the  mark 
were  large  and  clear.  Then  comes  that  provok- 
ing instant  when  you  find  yourself  pulling  the 
trigger,  knowing  it  is  a  little  off  the  centre,  and 
realizing  so  well  that  nothing  but  the  centre  can 
be  relied  on.  All  these  things  contribute  to 
make  this  grouse  a  bird  to  gladden  the  heart  of 
those  who  love  the  woods  more  for  what  cannot 
be  done  than  for  what  can,  and,  though  it  is  a  bird 
that  rarely  justifies  a  special  trip  for  its  pursuit 
like  the  quail,  it  is  still  a  bright  enough  light  in 
the  forest  to  be  counted  a  true  game-bird. 


INDEX 


Alaska  — 

Golden  plover,  331. 
Ruffed  grouse,  404. 
Allen's  ptarmigan  [Z.  /.  alleni]  107, 

240. 
Aleutian   Islands,   ptarmigan  races, 

247. 
American      woodcock      [Philohela 

minor]  — 
Boring,  316-319. 
Description,  303-321. 
Food,  "suction  theory,"  worms, 

etc.,  306-312. 

Making  woodcock  ground,  318. 
Mating,  312-314. 
Mud  haunts,  305,  309,  316. 
Shooting,  304-305,  316,  320-321. 
Young,  3 1 4-3 1 6. 
Ammunition,  procuring,  31-32. 
Arizona,  Gambel's  partridge,  395. 
Attwater's    prairie-hen    \_T.  a.  att- 
tuatcri}  107,  193. 

Badger  state — ruffed  grouse  shoot- 
ing, 132-138. 
Bait,  procuring,  311. 
Bartramia  longicauda,  see  Bartram's 

sandpiper. 
Bartram's     sandpiper     [Bartramia 

longicauda]  — 
Description,  325. 
Flesh,  value  as  food,  323,  329. 
Haunts  and  range,  323. 
Names,  322-323. 
Shooting,  326. 
Stalking,  328. 


Black-bellied     Massena    partridge, 

105. 

Black-game  importations,  346,  347. 
Blue  or  crested  quail,  Pacific  coast 

varieties,  377. 
Blue  Ridge,  ruffed  grouse  shooting, 

141. 

Bob-white  [  C.  virginianus]  — 
Abundance  in  U.S.,  6. 
Compared  with   mountain-quail, 

387,390,392,393- 
Compared  with  valley-quail,  378, 

382. 

Florida  type,  I,  4,  85. 
Masked  Bob-white,  I,  4,  89. 
Mating,  8-12. 
Packing,  98-99. 
Sporting    and     other     qualities, 

5-8. 

Texan  type,  I,  4,  87. 
Varieties,  4. 
[See  also  Quail.] 

Bog  —  sand-hill  crane  shooting  inci- 
dent, 363-366. 

Bonaparte,  C.  L.  —  turkey    charac- 
teristics, 264,  265,  266. 
Bonasa     nmbellus  —  ruffed    grouse, 

107,  108. 

[See  Ruffed  grouse.] 
Bonasa  umbellus  sabini  —  Sabine's 

grouse,  107,  143-144. 
Bonasa   umbellus  togata,   Canadian 
ruffed   grouse,    107,    144- 

145- 

Bonasa  umbellus  umbelloides  —  gray 
ruffed  grouse,  107,  146. 


419 


420 


Index 


British  Columbia  — 

Ptarmigan-shooting,  243. 
Ruffed  grouse  shooting,  140. 

Brush,  see  Cover. 

California  — 

Dogs,  breeding,  385. 
Mountain-quail,  388-389. 
Partridge,    see    California    par- 
tridge. 
Valley-quail  of  California,  see  that 

title. 
California  partridge  [Lophortyx  cali- 

fornicus\  5,  91,  96. 
Packing,  98-99. 
Sporting  qualities,  97. 
Callipepla    squamata,    scaled    par- 
tridge, 5,  91,  94. 
Callipepla  squamata   castaneigastra 

partridge,  5,  91,  96. 
Calls  — 

Gambel's  partridge,  104. 
Mountain  partridge,  92. 
Mountain-quail,  386-387. 
Mourning  dove,  367. 
Quail,  21-24,  5°>  51*  75>  9°- 
Sand-hill  crane,  360. 
Turkey-calling,  273-277. 
Valley-quail  of  California,  379- 

380. 
Canachites      canadensis  —  Canada 

grouse,  107,  153-155. 
Canachites  franklini  —  Franklin's 

grouse,  107,  156. 
Canada  — 

Ptarmigan-shooting,  229-240. 
[See  also  Ontario,  etc.] 
Canada    grouse     \_Canachites    can- 
adensis] 107,  153-155. 
Canadian   ruffed   grouse   \_B.  u.  to- 

gata]  107,  144-145. 
Capercailzie,  American  rivals,  etc., 

346-347. 

Cascade    Mountains,  ruffed    grouse, 
404,  407. 


Cats  — 

Quail  destroyers,  72. 
Quail-shooting  anecdote,  79. 
Centrocercus    urophasianus  —  sage- 
grouse,  107,  210. 
[See  Sage-grouse.] 
Charadrius     dominicus  —  golden 

plover,  330. 
[See  Golden  plover.] 
Chestnut-bellied     scaled     partridge 
[C.  s.  castaneigastra'}    5, 
91,  96. 

Chickens,  see  Prairie-hen. 
Chinese  pheasants  importations,  347- 

349- 
Coast  Range  — 

Dusky  grouse,  413,  414. 
Mountain-quail,  391. 
Ruffed  grouse,  404. 
Cold  —  enemy  of  the  quail,  69-71. 
Colin<z  genus,  partridge  family,  I. 
Colinus  ridgwayi  —  Masked    Bob- 
white,  I,  4,  89. 
Colinus     virginianus  —  bob-white, 

1,4. 

[See  Bob-white.] 

Colinus  virginianus  floridanus  — 
Florida  Bob-white,   I,  4, 
85. 
Colinus  virginianus  texanus — Texas 

Bob-white,  I,  4,  87. 
Colorado  — 

Gambel's     partridge,    Colorado 

River,  394,  397. 
Ptarmigan-shooting,  243. 
Columbian       sharp-tailed       grouse 
[P.  p.  cohimbianus~\   107, 
194. 
Cooper's    hawk  —  quail    destroyer, 

71. 

Cornfields  —  quail-shooting,  53-54, 
82-83. 

Costume  for  shooting,  see  Sports- 
men. 

Coursing  turkeys,  269-273. 


Index 


421 


Cover  — 

Dusky  grouse,  149. 

Quail-shooting,  50-54,  61-65. 

Ruff  ed  grouse,  109,  no,  128-129. 

Ruffed  grouse  of  the  Pacific  coast, 

405-410. 
Cranes  — 

Sand-hill  crane,  see  that  title. 

Whooping  crane,  shooting,  353- 

359- 

Crater  Lake,  ruffed  grouse,  404. 
Crested  quail,  Pacific  coast  varieties, 

377- 

Cross-firing,  40. 

Crytonyx    Montezuma  —  partridge, 
5,  91,  104. 

Dendragap  us       obscurus  —  dusky 

grouse,  107,  147. 
[See  Dusky  grouse.] 
Dendragapus  obscurus  fuliginosus  — 

sooty  grouse,  107,  152. 
Dendragapus  obscurus  richardsoni — 

Richardson's  grouse,  107, 

153- 

Denny,  Judge  —  shipments  of  Chinese 
pheasants    to   U.S.,   347- 

348. 

Desert,  quail  of,  see  Gambel's  par- 
tridge, Pacific  coast. 

"  Doc  "  —  quail-shooting  expedition, 

73-85. 
Dogs  — 

California,  dog  breeding,  385. 

Chicken-shooting,  172-174. 

Llewellyn  setters,  see  that  title. 

Pointers,  see  that  title. 

Quail-shooting,  31-36,  38-40,44- 
46. 

Prairie-hen  shooting,  172-174. 

Scent  —  quail-shooting,     28-29, 
52,  64,  66. 

Setters,  see  that  title. 

Valley-quail  of  California,  shoot- 
ing, 382,  385. 


Dove,  see  Mourning  dove. 
Drumming  habit  of  ruffed  grouse, 

110-115. 

Dusky  grouse  [Dendragapus  ob- 
scurus] 147-152. 

Mating,  151-152. 

Shooting,  148-151. 

Treeing  habit,  148,  150,  152. 

Young,  151-152. 
Dusky  grouse,  Pacific  coast  — 

Description,  410-415. 

Range,  411. 

Shooting,  411,  415-417. 

Eagle  as  U.S.  emblem,  250-251. 
Elliot's  Rio  Grande  turkey  [M.  s. 

ellioti}  299. 
Enemies  of  upland  game  — 

Cats,  see  that  title. 

Grouse,  121. 

Hawks,  see  that  title. 

Owl  attack  on  turkeys,  266-268. 

Prairie-hen,  174. 

Ptarmigan,  227. 

Quail,  69,  88. 

Rattlesnake,    Texan    Bob-white 
enemy,  88. 

Squirrel,  foe  of  dove,  370-374. 
England  — 

Pheasant-shooting,  350-351. 

Sportsmen,  British,  351-352. 
Esquimaux,  ptarmigan  enemies,  227. 
European  game,  345,  346. 
Evermann's    ptarmigan     [Z.    ever- 
manni\  108,  247. 

Falconers,  sport  of,  220. 

Farmers  and  their  relation  to  sports- 
men, 55-61. 

Florida  Bob-white  [C.  v.  flori- 
danus~\  I,  4,  85. 

Florida  wild  turkey  \_M.  s.  osceola~\ 
298-299. 

Fool  quail  —  Massena  partridge, 
105. 


422 


Index 


Foreign  game  importations,  345-352. 

[See  also  Pheasants,  etc.] 
Franklin's    grouse    \_C.  franklini] 
107,  156. 

Gallinaceous   birds,    see    names   of 

birds. 

Gallinse —  partridge  family,  I. 
Gambel's    partridge     [Z.   gambeli] 
101. 

Mating,  nest,  etc.,  103. 

Running  habit,  102. 
Gambel's  partridge,  Pacific  coast  — 

Compared  with  valley-quail  of 
California,  379-380. 

Description,  395. 

Range,  394~395- 

Shooting,  396-403. 
Game,  see  names  of  birds. 
Game  laws,  evasion  of,  175-176. 
Gobbler,  see  Turkey. 
"  Golden  opportunity,"  334. 
Golden  plover  \_Charadrius  domini- 
cus~\  — 

Migration,  range,  etc.,  330-331. 

Shooting,  331-332. 

"  A  golden  opportunity,"  334. 
Goose-shooting,  359,  360. 
Gordon  setter  for  quail-shooting,  35. 
Gray  plover,    Bartram's   sandpiper, 

323-324. 
Gray  ruffed   grouse   \_B.  u.   umbel- 

loides~\  107,  146. 
Great  Lakes,  golden  plover  range, 

331- 

Grouse  — 

Anecdote  —  eagerness  of  sports- 
men to  make  the  heaviest 
bag,  63. 

Attwater's  prairie-hen,  193. 

Canada  grouse,  153-155. 

Canadian  ruffed  grouse,  144-145. 

Columbian  sharp-tailed  grouse, 
194. 

Dusky  grouse,  see  that  title. 


Grouse  \contimi£d~\  — 
Flight,  129-130,  132. 
Franklin's  grouse,  107,  156. 
Genus  of  grouse  family,  107. 
Gray  ruffed  grouse,  107,  146. 
Heath-hen,  107, 192. 
Lesser  prairie-hen,  107,  193. 
Migration  —  encounters        with 

grouse  in  town,  126-128. 
Oregon  grouse,  144. 
Pinnated  grouse,  see  that  title. 
Prairie-hen,  see  that  title. 
Prairie   sharp -tailed    grouse,   see 

that  title. 

Richardson's,  153. 
Rifle  shots,  123-125. 
Ruffed  grouse,  see  that  title. 
Sabine's  grouse,  107,  143-144. 
Sage-grouse,  see  that  title. 
Sharp-tailed     grouse,     see     that 

title. 

Snow-time,  128-129. 
Sooty  grouse,  152. 
Grus  americana  —  whooping  crane, 

353-359- 
Grus  canadensis  —  sand-hill   crane, 

359- 

\_See  Sand-hill  crane.] 
Guns  — 

"Match  at  chickens,"   179-180, 
184. 

Prairie  sharptail,  shooting  anec- 
dote, 200-204. 

Quail-shooting,  30-32. 

Small     rifle  —  grouse  -  shooting, 
123-125. 

Turkey-tracking,  282. 

Woodcock-shooting,  321. 

Hawks  — 

Grouse  chase,  218-219. 
Pictures  of  hawk  sporting,  219- 

220. 

Quail  destroyers,  71. 
Uses  of,  72. 


Index 


423 


Heath-hen  [T.  cupido}  107,  192. 
Hunting,  see  Shooting. 

Indians  — 

Grouse  enemies,  121. 
Grouse-shooting  anecdote,  204- 

206. 
"Joe  "  —  ptarmigan-shooting, 

229-240,  338. 
Ptarmigan  enemies,  227. 
Irish  setter,  merits  of,  34. 

«  joe  "  —  golden    plover    shooting, 

334-344- 

"  Joe,"  Indian  —  ptarmigan  shoot- 
ing, 229-240,  338. 

«  joe  "  —  turkey-tracking,    284-290, 

338. 

"Joss,"  setter  —  quail-shooting,  74- 
85. 

Lagopus  evermanni  —  Evermann's 
ptarmigan,  108,  247. 

Lagopus  lagopus  alleni  —  Allen's 
ptarmigan,  107,  240. 

Lagopus  lagopus  —  willow-ptarmigan, 

107,  221. 

[See  Willow  ptarmigan.] 
Lagopus         leucurus  —  white-tailed 
ptarmigan,  108,  242. 

[See  White-tailed'ptarmigan.] 
Lagopus  rupestris —  rock-ptarmigan, 

107,  241. 

Lagopus  rupestris  atkensis  —  Tur- 
ner's ptarmigan,  108,  247. 

Lagopus  rupestris  nelsoni  —  Nelson's 
ptarmigan,  108,  247. 

Lagopus  rupestris  reinhardti —  Rein- 
hardt's  ptarmigan,  107, 
241-242. 

Lagopus  rupestris  townsendi  — 
Townsend's  ptarmigan, 

108,  247. 

Lagopus  rupestris  welchi  —  Welch's 
ptarmigan,  107,  242. 


Lesser  prairie-hen   [  T.  pallididnc- 

tus\  107,  193. 
Llewellyn  setters  — 

Madge  and  Joss,  74-85. 
Merits  of,  34. 
Lophortyx  calijornicus,  partridge,  5, 

91,  96. 

[See  California  partridge.] 
Lophortyx      californicus     vallicolat 

partridge,  5,  91,  100. 
Lophortyx  gambeli,  partridge,  5,  91, 

101. 

[See  Gambel's  partridge.] 
Louisiana  papabotte,  323,  329. 

"  Madge,"    setter  —  quail-shooting, 

74-85. 
Manitoba — whooping    crane   sport, 

357- 

"  Marking  down  "  —  quail-shooting, 
46. 

Marten  —  Mattawa  incident,  124. 

Masked  Bob- white  [C.  ridgwayt] 
I,  4,  89. 

Massena  partridge  [  Crytonyx  Monte- 
zuma~]  5,  91,  104,  105. 

"Match  at  chickens,"  177-192. 

Mattawa  moose  country  —  marten 
shot,  124. 

Meleagris  gallopavo  —  Mexican  tur- 
key, 299. 
[See  Mexican  turkey.] 

Meleagris    syl-vestris  —  wild  turkey, 

248. 
[See  Wild  turkey.] 

Meleagris  sylvestris  Mioti  — 
Elliot's  Rio  Grande  tur- 
key, 299. 

Meleagris  sylvestris  osceola  —  Florida 
wild  turkey,  298-299. 

Mexican    turkey    [Meleagris  gallo- 

pavo~\  — 

Characteristics,  etc.,  299-300. 
Introduction   into   Europe,  260, 
300-302. 


424 


Index, 


Michigan,   ruffed    grouse    shooting, 

138-139. 

Mistassini  lake  —  "A  try  for  ptarmi- 
gan," 229. 

Mojave  Desert,  Gambel's  partridge, 

395- 

Mongolian  pheasant  species,  347-349. 
Mountain  partridge   \_Oreortyx  pic- 

fus]  4-5,  91. 
Mountain-quail  — 

Call,  386-387. 

Compared  with  Bob-white,  387, 

390.  392,  393- 
Description,  387. 
Flesh,  value  as  food,  390. 
Range,  388-389. 
Shooting,  390-393. 
Taming,  389. 
Mourning    dove     \_Zenaidura    ma- 

croura]  — 
Call,  367. 
Description,  367. 
Nest,  368. 
Range,  367. 
Shooting,  369-370. 
Squirrel,   enemy   of  dove,  370- 

374- 

Nelson's  ptarmigan  [Z.  r.  nelsoni} 

1 08,  247. 
Nervous  sportsmen,  methods  of,  41- 

42. 
Nests  — 

Gambel's  partridge,  103. 
Mourning  dove,  368. 
Quail,  13. 
Ruffed  grouse,  115-116. 

Odontophorince  —  partridges,    I,  91. 
Ontario  — 

Golden  plover  shooting,  332. 

Grouse-shooting,  141. 

Prairie-hen  shooting,  160. 

Sand-hill  crane  shooting,  362. 


Ontario  [continued'}  — 

Turkey  ranges,  249,  251. 
Oregon  — 

Dusky  grouse,  414. 

Mountain-quail,  389,  391. 

Pheasants,  abundance  of,  348. 

Ruffed  grouse,  404,  408. 
Oregon  grouse  (Sabine's)  107,  143- 

144. 
Oreortyx pictiis,  mountain  partridge, 

4-5»  91- 
Oreortyx pictus  confinis,  partridge,  5, 

91,  94- 

Oreortyx  pictus  plumiferus,  par- 
tridge, 5,  91,  93. 

Owls  —  night  attack  on  turkeys, 
266-268. 

Pacific  coast  — 

Gambel's  partridge,  Pacific  coast, 

see  that  title. 

Grouse,  see  Ruffed  grouse,  Pacific 
coast,  and  Dusky  grouse, 
Pacific  coast. 
Quail,    see    Mountain- quail    and 

Valley- quail. 
Papabotte,  Bartram's  sandpiper,  323, 

329. 
Partridges  — 

British,  American  rivals,  346. 

California,  96. 

Call  of,  92. 

Chestnut-bellied  scaled  partridge, 

5,  91,  96. 

Gambel's  partridge,  see  that  title. 
Genus,  i,  91. 
Massena,  5,  91,  104,  105. 
Mountain,  4-5,  91. 
Packing,  98-99. 
Plumed,  93. 
San  Pedro,  5,  91,  94. 
Scaled,  5,  91,  94. 
Valley,  5,  91,  100. 
Pedioecetes   phasianellus  —  sharp- 

tailed  grouse,  107,  193. 


Index 


425 


Pedioecetes phasianellus  campestris  — 
prairie  sharp-tailed  grouse, 
107,  195. 

[See  Prairie  sharp-tailed  grouse.] 

Pedioecetes  phasianellus  columbianus 

—  Columbian  sharp-tailed 

grouse,  107,  194. 

Pennsylvania,  ruffed  grouse  shooting, 

141-143. 
Phasianus    torquatus  —  Mongolian 

pheasant,  347. 
Pheasants  — 

British  sport,  350-351. 
Characteristics,  348. 
Illegal  quarry,  349. 
Species  imported,  347,  348. 
Sporting  qualities,  349. 
Philohela  minor  —  American  wood- 
cock, 303. 

[See  American  woodcock.] 
Pinnated  grouse  — 

Dusky  grouse  shooting  compared, 

412-413. 
Enmity  to  sharptail  alleged,  197- 

198. 
Plover,  see  Bart  ram's  sandpiper  and 

golden  plover. 
Plumed  partridge  \_O.p.  plumiferus} 

5»  9i,  93- 
Pointers  — 

Quail-shooting,  33. 

Qualities  for  field  work,  172-173. 
Popples  —  grouse-shooting,  1 38. 
Prairie-hen  — 

Attwater's  prairie-hen,  193. 

Lesser  prairie-hen,  193. 
Prairie-hen    [Tympanuchus  ameri- 
canus}  156-192. 

Booming  sound,  159-163. 

Enemies  of,  174. 

Haunts  of,  159. 

Mating  season,  162-164. 

Qualifications,  157-158. 

Shooting  — 

Dogs  for,  172-174. 


Prairie-hen  [continued'}  — 
Shooting  [continued]  — 

End  of  the  season,  171-172. 
"Match  at   chickens,"   177- 

192. 

Strutting — inflated  sacs,i62-l  63. 
Trapping,  177. 
Young,  164-165. 
Prairie  sharp-tailed   grouse    [P.  p. 

campestris'}  1 95-2 1 o. 
Enmity  to   pinnated  grouse  al- 
leged, 197-198. 
Mating,  196. 
Sporting     qualities  —  shooting 

anecdotes,    198-210. 
Prairies — 

Fascination  of,  170. 
Fires,  cause  of,  176-177. 
Protection   Island,   Chinese   pheas- 
ants, 348. 
Ptarmigan  — 

Aleutian  Island  races,  247. 
Allen's  ptarmigan,  107,  240. 
Reinhardt's  ptarmigan,  107,  241- 

242. 

Rock  ptarmigan,  107,  241. 
Shooting  —  "a    try  for  ptarmi- 
gan," 229-240. 
Welch's  ptarmigan,  107,  242. 
White-tailed  ptarmigan,  see  that 

title. 
Willow  ptarmigan,  see  that  title. 

Quail  — 

Blue  or  crested  quail  varieties  on 

Pacific  coast,  377. 
Bob -white,  see  that  title. 
Call  of,  21-24,  5°»  5r»  75»  9°- 
Description,  markings,  etc.,  20-21. 
Desert,   quail   of,   see    Gambel's 

partridge,  Pacific  coast. 
Enemies  of,  69,  88. 
Gambel's  partridge,  see  that  title. 
Habits  and  peculiarities  —  scent, 

etc.,  26-29. 


4^6 


Index 


Quail  [continued  ~\  — 

Importation  of  migratory  variety, 

2-4. 

Migration,  24-25. 
Mountain-quail,  see  that  title. 
Nests,  13. 
Pacific  coast,  see  Mountain-quail 

and  Valley-quail. 
Roosting,  26. 
Shooting,  30-67. 

End  of  the  season,  64. 

Methods  of  good  shots,  54. 

Scent,  28-29,  52,  64,  66. 

Suggestions  to  novices,  35. 

Young  quail,  19. 
Valley-quail  of  California,  see  that 

title. 

Varieties  of,  4-5. 
Young  — 

Characteristics,  16-19. 

Rearing,  14-16. 

Shooting,  19. 

Rallying  call,  see  Calls. 

Rasores — partridge  family,  I. 

Rattlesnake,  enemy  of  Texan  Bob- 
white,  88. 

Red  grouse,  American  rivals,  346. 

Red  River  Valley,  grouse  shooting, 
139-140. 

Red  ruffed  grouse,  see  Ruffed  grouse, 
Pacific   coast. 

Red  squirrel  —  foe  of  dove,  370-374. 

Reinhardt's  ptarmigan  [Z.  r.  rein- 
hardti\  107,  241-242. 

Richardson's  grouse  [D.  o.  richard- 
soni\  107,  153. 

Rifles,  see  Guns. 

Ringneck  pheasant  species,  347-348. 

Rio  Grande  turkey,  Elliot's,  299. 

Rock  ptarmigan  [Z.  rupestris~\  107, 
241. 

Rocky  Mountains  — 
Dusky  grouse,  410. 
First  view  of,  207-208. 


Roosting  — 
Quail,  26. 
Ruffed    grouse  —  treeing   habit, 

118-123. 
Ruffed  grouse  — 

Canadian,  107,  144-145. 

Gray,  107,  146. 

Pacific  coast,  see  Ruffed  grouse, 

Pacific  coast. 

Ruffed  grouse  \_Bonasa  umbellus~\  — 
Cover,  109,  no,  128-129. 
Description,  108. 
Drumming  habit,  110-115. 
Enemies,  121. 
Flight   downhill  —  Pennsylvania 

shooting,  141-142. 
Mating,  no,  115,  116. 
Nest,  115-116. 
Pacific  coast,  see  Ruffed  grouse, 

Pacific  coast. 
Roosting  —  treeing  habit,   118- 

123. 
Shooting  — 

British  Columbia,  140. 
Difficulties  of,  109,  130-132. 
Michigan,  138-139. 
Ontario,  western,  141. 
Pennsylvania,  141—143. 
Red  River  Valley,  139-140. 
Stalking,  112,  120-126. 
Wing-clapping,  111-114. 
Wisconsin,  132-138. 
Young — 

Characteristics  and  delicacy  of, 

116-117. 
Devotion    of    hen   to,    116- 

118. 

[See  also  Grouse.] 
Ruffed  grouse,  Pacific  coast  — 
Description,  403. 
Range,  404. 
Shooting,  heavy  brush,  405-410. 

Sabine's  grouse  [B.  u.  sabini}  107, 
143-144. 


Index 


427 


Sage-grouse    [  Centrocercus   uropha- 
sianus'}  210-220. 

Eggs,  214-216. 

Flesh,  value  as  food,  213. 

Haunter  of  sage  plains,  211-212. 

Hawk  chase,  218-219. 

Mating,  214. 

Sporting  qualities,  216-217. 
Salt    River    Valley,    Gambel's   par- 
tridge, 394. 
San  Bernardino,  Gambel's  partridge, 

395- 

Sand-hill  crane  \Grus  canadensis}  — 
Call  of,  360. 
Shooting,  359-366. 

Bog  incident,  363-366. 
Wounded  crane,  rapier  play, 

361-365- 

Sandpiper,  see  Bartram's  sandpiper. 
San   Pedro   Martir,  mountain -quail, 

388. 
San  Pedro  partridge  [  0.  p.  confinis~\ 

5t  9i»  94- 

Santa  Barbara,  dusky  grouse,  411. 
Santa  Monica  Mountains,  quail,  385. 
Scaled   partridge    \_Callipepla  squa- 

mata]  5,  91,  94. 

Season,  quail -shooting,  end  of,  64. 
Seed    hens  —  quail-shooting    anec- 
dote, 48. 
Setters  — 

Gordon  setter,  35. 

Irish  setter,  34. 

Llewellyn  setters,  see  that  title. 

Quail-shooting,  33-35. 

Qualities   for   field    work,    172- 

173. 

Sharp-tailed  grouse  — 
Columbian,  194. 
Prairie   sharp-tailed    grouse,   see 

that  title. 
Sharp-tailed      grouse      [Pedioecetes 

pkasianellus]  107,  193. 
Shooting  — 

Costume,  see  Sportsmen. 


Shooting  \continued~\  — 

Cross-firing,  40. 

Game  law  evasion,  175-176. 

Guns,  see  that  title. 

Sportsmen,  see  that  title. 

Stalking,  see  that  title. 

[See  also  names  of  game. ~\ 
Sierra  Nevada  — 

Dusky  grouse,  412,  415. 

Gambel's  partridge,  394,  395. 
Skunk-shooting  incident,  203-205. 
Snake,  enemy  of  Texan  Bob-white,  88. 
Snow  — 

Grouse  shelters,  128-129. 

Ptarmigan   plumage    coloration, 
222-223. 

Ptarmigan-shooting,      229-240 ; 
snow-storm,  236-240. 

Quail-shooting,  66-71. 
Snow-shoes  of  ptarmigan,  etc.,  223- 

224. 

Sonora,  Gambel's  partridge,  394, 395. 
Sooty    grouse    [Z>.    o.  fuliginosus] 

107,  152. 
South  Dakota,  prairie-hen  shooting, 

166-168. 
Sportsmen  — 

British  sportsmen,  351-352. 

Costume  — 

Gambel's  partridge  sport,  398. 
Quail-shooting,  30. 

Eagerness  to  make  the  heaviest 
bag — grouse  anecdote,  63. 

Farmers'  relationship  to,  55-61. 

Nervousness,  41-42. 

Outfit,  30. 

[See  also  Shooting.] 
Squirrel — foe  of  dove,  370-374. 
Stalking  — 

Bartram's  sandpiper,  328. 

Ruffed  grouse,  112,  120-126. 

Whooping  crane,  354. 

Tehichipi,  dusky  grouse  range,  411. 
Tetraonidce  —  partridge  family,  I. 


428 


Index 


Tetraonina  —  grouse  family,  107. 
Texan  Bob-white    \_C.   v.   texanus] 

i,  4,  87. 
Texas  —  Bartram's  sandpiper  range, 

324- 

Thickets  —  quail-shooting,  52. 
Townsend's  ptarmigan   [Z.  r.  town- 

sendi\  1 08,  247. 
Tracking  turkeys$  277-293. 
Trapping  chickens,  177. 
Trapping  turkeys,  253-255. 
Treeing  habits  of  upland   game  — 
Dusky  grouse,  148,  150,  152. 
Ruffed  grouse,  118-123. 
Turkey  — 

Elliot's     Rio     Grande     turkey, 

299. 
Emblem  for  U.S.,  proposal,  250- 

251. 

Florida  wild  turkey,  298-299. 
Mexican  turkey,  see  that  title. 
Strutting  gobbler,  inflated  feeling 

of,  112. 

Wild  turkey,  see  that  title. 
Turner's  ptarmigan  [Z.  r.  atkensis] 

1 08,  247. 

Tympanuchus  americanus — prairie- 
hen,  107,  156. 
[See  Prairie-hen.] 

Tympanuchus  americanus  attwateri 
—  Attwater's  prairie-hen, 
107,  193. 
Tympanuchus    cupido  —  heath-hen, 

107,  192. 

Tympanuchus pallidicinctus  —  lesser 
prairie-hen,  107,  193. 

Upland  game,  see  names  of  game. 
Upland  plover,  see  Bartram's  sand- 
piper. 

Valley-partridge  [Z.  c.  vallicola}  5, 

91,  100. 

Valley-quail  of  California  — 
Abundance  of,  377. 


Valley-quail  of  California  [contin- 
ued} — 

Call,  379-380. 

Compared  with  Bob-white,  378, 
332. 

Compared  with  Gambel's  par- 
tridge, 379,  380. 

Description,  378. 

Fearlessness  and  vivacity,  378- 

379- 
Shooting,  380-386. 

Banding  of  quail,  381. 
Dog,  necessity  of,  382,  385. 
Expert,  sport  for,  380,  383- 

385- 

Flight  of  quail,  383. 
Ventura,  dusky  grouse,  411. 

Welch's  ptarmigan   [Z.  r.   welchi] 

107,  242. 

White-tailed  buck,  shooting,  257. 
White-tailed    ptarmigan  [Z.  leucu- 

rus~\  242-247. 
Mating,  245. 
Plumage,  245-246. 
Shooting  —  high  altitudes,  243- 

245- 

"  White  wolf  of  the  north  "  —  ptar- 
migan shooting,  238. 
Whooping  crane  [  Grus  americana'] 

shooting,  353-359- 
Wild  turkey   \_Meleagris  sylvestris'} 

248-298. 

Coursing,  269-273. 
Demand  for  wild  birds,  252-253. 
Eggs,  hatching  under   domestic 

bird,  259-260. 

Florida  wild  turkey,  298-299. 
Mating,  258-259. 
Migration,  261-263. 
Owl  attack  on,  266-268. 
Range  limit  —  scarcity  of  birds, 

248-252. 

Shooting,  256-258,  269-298. 
Calling,  269,  273-277. 


Index 


429 


Wild  turkey  [continued]  — 
Shooting  [continued]  — 
Coursing,  269-273. 
Shooting  from  ambush  anec- 
dote, 293-298. 
Tracking,  277-293. 
Swimming  anecdotes,  263-266. 
Trapping,  253-255. 
Young,  delicacy  of,  261. 
Willow  ptarmigan  \_Lagopus  lagopus\ 

221-228. 
Enemies  of,  227. 
Flesh,  value  as  food,  222. 
Mating,  225-226. 
Moulting,  228. 
Plumage    coloration,    changing, 

222-223,  228. 

Refuge  under  snowdrifts,  224. 
Shooting  —  "A  try  for  ptarmi- 
gan," 229-240. 
Snow-shoes,  223-224. 
Trails,  233-234. 
Young,  devotion  of  parents  to,  226. 


Wilson,     A.  —  swimming     turkey, 

263-264. 
Wing-clapping  habit  of  grouse,  ui- 

114. 
Wisconsin  — 

Prairie-hen  shooting,  168-169. 
Ruffed  grouse  shooting,  132-138. 
Woodcock  — 

American    woodcock,    see    that 

title. 

European,  345. 
Worms  — 

Food   of   American    woodcock, 

306-312. 

Rising    to    surface    of    ground, 
311-312. 

Young  of  game  birds,  see  names  of 
birds. 

Zenaidura     macroura  —  mourning 

dove,  367. 
[See  Mourning  dove.] 


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